


BLT Sandwich

by Fledermintmaus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Ace character, Just here for a good time baby, Lots of canon character cameos, Most of the time, Nonbinary Character, Other, Sex referenced but not explicit, The violence isn't very graphic but added a warning to be safe, This was an exercise in stress relief so it's pretty light and fluffy, We are playing fast and loose with canon and Legends, healthy dose of original characters, updating every friday until done, written before Mandalorian Season 2 and we're not going to bother changing anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 110,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26772742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledermintmaus/pseuds/Fledermintmaus
Summary: Lind Balazs, a Mandalorian, and Tippi, their chadra-fan partner in ocassional crime, have been getting in and out of trouble for years. They’re in for name brand trouble when they bump helmets with the notorious Boba Fett.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Original Character(s)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 27





	1. Two Straw Blue Milkshake

There was a diner nestled between two landing bays at a busy spaceport on a mid-sized moon in the outer rim. In the diner, there was a rosy-pink twi’lek with a cleaning rag in her plump hand scrubbing at a spot on the counter no one but her could see. Her face was finally starting to show its age with deeper lines around her lips and the corners of her eyes. She was always ready with a pair of attentive ear cones, a kind word, and the daily specials. According to her little chrome nametag, her name was Auni.

Auni had run the diner for thirty years, and worked there even longer. It wasn’t her name on the marquee, but everyone still called it Auni’s diner. The previous year, a hotshot rebel pilot had destroyed the Galactic Empire’s latest and greatest superweapon. It shook up everything, but at least for Auni’s regulars there remained one constant. Governments rose and fell, but Auni and her diner remained steadfast in the face of all turmoil.

She got all kinds coming in for a refreshing beverage and a warm meal. Even so, these days a real Mandalorian in full battle armor was a rare treat. Many nervous eyes followed the Mando as they made their way to where Auni stood. She pulled her notepad from her apron pocket. It was just for show. Auni never forgot an order.

“What can I get you, hun?”

“Blue milkshake. Two straws, please.” Well that sure wasn’t the order Auni had expected. Maybe they liked to match their food to their armor. It was deep blue with crisp yellow-gold details.

“Well, aren’t you sweet! Two straws? You waiting on a hot date?” The pink twi’lek winked up at the Mandalorian. They were very tall, but then again, most beings seemed that way to Auni who was quite short.

“No. It’s for my co-pilot. She doesn’t drink it, but she likes to feel included.”

“Where-” Auni was interrupted by a staticky voice coming from one of the Mandalorian’s gauntlets. There was a comm unit embedded in it.

“Lind, have you ordered yet?!” The voice was a little piercing.

“We are in the process, Tippi,” the Mandalorian, Lind, replied evenly.

“Did you remember my deep fried Corellian Hoppers?” Lind turned back to Auni.

“And an order of the Corellian Hoppers. To go, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all.”

Auni hadn’t expected such genteel manners from someone whose idea of accessorizing was dangerous weaponry. She’d been concerned Lind might be the type to pick a fight to prove how bad they were. Looked like Lind had nothing to prove and Auni didn't need to worry about the logistics of tossing someone twice her height out the front door.

“Deep fried, Lind!!” the voice over the comm called. Bossy thing. Auni wouldn’t have stood for that sort of tone. Apparently, Lind was accustomed to it. They remained calm and relaxed, like an undisturbed lake in the Naboo countryside.

“Deep fried. Got it.” Auni said. “Would you like that blue milkshake to go, too?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’ll drink it here.”

“Two straws?” The helmet nodded. It reminded Auni of the little statuettes that were popular cockpit decorations for freighter pilots. The kind with an oversized head seated on a spring so it wobbled with the vibrations of the engines.

“Yes, two straws.”

Auni was smiling, but her brow ridge was raised nearly to the roots of her lekku. What a bizarre pair.

***

Lind sat patiently at the counter. Kalypso had been right. This was a much more relaxing atmosphere than the cantina. The bell at the front entrance rang and an enormous whiphid with beautiful snowy fur stomped inside. She made a beeline for Lind. Great.

“You’re Boba Fett?” Welp. There went Lind’s nice, peaceful moment.

“Sorry to disappoint. I hear he favors a nice green color scheme these days. As you can see, mine is blue. Better luck next time. ”

The whiphid grabbed Lind’s arm and they allowed themselves to be hoisted to their feet. The whiphid activated a vibroblade and drew a line down one of Lind’s breast plates with the tip. It left a trail of sparks and bare metal.

“Do you mind?” Lind tilted their helmet up to look the whiphid in the eyes. “You’re chipping my paint job. I worked very hard on it.”

The whiphid leered down at them and sneered, “You may not be Fett, but you’re still a Mando. Splitting that helmet open will do wonders for my rep.”

“I offer many useful services,” Lind said. Without warning, they snapped their helmet forward and made contact with the lower half of the whiphid’s long face. Back where they were from, they called that move a Keldabe Kiss. There was a sickening crack and something clattered to the floor. The whiphid dropped her vibroblade and collapsed to her knees, howling in pain and grasping at the stump where her left tusk used to be. “But resume building isn’t one of them.”

It was a VERY cool line and Lind was deeply miffed no one could hear it over the wailing. They had been honest with the whiphid. Lind was no Boba Fett. They bet people always appreciated his cool one liners.

“Just for future reference,” Auni said as she held out Lind’s order. “We have a strict policy against bad behavior, especially starting fights. Three strikes and it’s a lifetime ban.”

“What’s the official stance on ending fights you didn’t start?”

“You’re in the clear, darling.” She reached up to pat the cheek plate of Lind’s helmet.

Lind handed Auni an extra credit chit as an apology for the disturbance. It was the polite thing to do. An enormous four armed besalisk got out of his booth and grabbed the whiphid under each arm. He dragged her, still howling, out the front door. Auni blew him a kiss as he returned to his seat. His throat wattle jiggled bashfully.

Lind made their way to a quiet corner at the back of the diner. Hopefully, no one else would spot them through the front window and get ideas.

They were carefully maneuvering one of the straws through their helmet’s seal when a Rodian approached the table.

“Excuse me. Your armor is very artfully painted. Such an exquisite color combination. You say you did it yourself?”

“Yes.”

“And you offer many useful services?” Lind nodded.

“Yes, I do.”

The Rodian clasped his hands in glee.

“Could you paint my house? My Homeowner’s Association has been up my green ass about it.”

More interested heads swiveled towards Lind than during the whiphid incident.

“Listen, buddy,” Lind stabbed an authoritative finger at the Rodian. It seemed every patron held their collective breath. “I am EXPENSIVE. I expect half my fee up front. You provide materials and paint. Now give me the location, size, and condition of your house so I can give an estimate.”

***

Lind entered the private bay where The Revenant was docked. It was a little larger than the average Corellian light freighter, and a lot more menacing. It was painted pitch black and was covered in long, tapering fins, only some of which were actually meant for stabilizing during flight.

It definitely looked illegal, but every Imperial inspection team that had ever boarded had found nothing but a filthy interior and untouchably pristine documentation.

Stormtroopers on escort duty for the inspectors often heard… something scuttling behind the walls. The owner said they were an insectivore. So whatever was under that helmet wasn’t human. Comforting. They claimed, on occasion, their live supply escaped containment. Called it free range snacking. But that wasn’t what made the troopers shudder. Whatever was making that noise was bigger than the insects the owner ate. Probably just rattling pipes and ductwork. Definitely haunted, they whispered to each other later in the safety of their barracks.

The dim lighting was certainly off putting. Very easy to miss things if you aren't careful. That was a demerit many inspectors had earned. The owner claimed to never have a problem navigating despite the loose trash and shipping containers littering the halls. They were capable of perceiving a wide array of visible spectrums. Whether that was with or without the helmet was left unsaid. Better not to know. It simply suited their needs and you wouldn’t believe how much energy they conserved! They knew how busy you must be, but would you like to see the diagnostic readout?

The fully functioning forge on board definitely didn’t seem like it should be up to code and yet. By some unholy miracle, it was all above board. Every bizarre twist in an interior that seemed much too small for a ship that size... but that could just be the claustrophobia setting in.

All those carefully filled out forms and registrations checked out on the very highest level. Maybe it was exactly what it looked like. An incredibly ugly, poorly maintained starship run by an eccentric. And absolutely haunted. One inspector was reprimanded for including that note in his report. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that the ship held secrets beyond his comprehension.

If only his superiors had recognized it was more than a flight of fancy and superstition. That particular inspector had an excellent gut instinct that went unrecognized and unappreciated.

Only Lind and Tippi knew all the false panels and areas only accessible by crawl spaces too small to traverse. Unless, of course, you were some sort of meter tall rodent who could fit through any space of equal or greater size to her own skull. And who could dislocate every joint in her body at will. Like, let’s say, a chadra-fan. Which, by miraculous coincidence, Tippi was. The vent that led to the housing for the row of rare stygium crystals which allowed the Revenant to become almost perfectly invisible to the naked eye was a tight squeeze even for her.

Lind and Tippi were also the only ones who knew the Revenant’s sparkling documentation was absolute fiction. Tippi had done as magnificent a job with it as she had building the ship itself. It looked exactly like a child’s sloppy art project made from starship graveyard scrap. She was a brilliant engineer. Lind’s forge came in handy when she needed a specific, custom part fabricated.

Lind had never been able to get her to tell the full story of where either she or the Revenant had come from. Lind figured if it was important, Tippi would tell them someday.

In return, Tippi never prodded about what was under Lind’s helmet. It all had something to do with the Mandalorian creed and personal anonymity in times of great crisis. Tippi tuned out whenever Lind tried to explain in more detail. Lind liked to explain things. They had a well of useless knowledge that seemed to be all about history, metallurgy, and murder. The three apparent staples of Mandalorian culture.

The unofficial fourth was a widespread hatred of Boba Fett. Apparently he was some kind of shameful exile. An outlaw among outlaws. Lind didn’t seem to share the distaste. They even expressed a fascination over what sort of man could survive so long with no clan at his back and more people gunning for him than any other bounty hunter in the galaxy. Nearly every other Mandalorian Tippi had met had only expressed righteous fury that the most widely recognized symbol of their people was an outsider profiting off their image and reputation. The perceived loss of their good name at Boba Fett’s hands was just another in a long line of sins against the Mandalorians.

On a much more dire note, their entire system had succumbed to Imperial occupation several years ago. The Mandalorian people were either oppressed under Imperial rule or dispersed across the stars in coverts, constantly on the run. They had fallen far from their former glory. They squatted in caves and sewers, only venturing out a handful at a time to bring back credits and supplies to sustain the rest. Lind was one of the chosen few risking their life and freedom out in the open in service to their clan and covert.

Tippi’s unique ship had made her a desirable partner for Lind’s endeavors. Their covert’s leadership had reluctantly agreed to the alliance.

It was an odd sort of trust between the two, but it was firm. They had settled into something akin to domesticity interspersed with high octane adventure. Secretly, they both hoped that it would never end, and they could stay together forever on the Revenant, surfing the wave of chaos that was the galaxy.

As Lind walked up the familiar loading ramp and entered the cargo hold, they felt an intense sensation they had longed to experience while on the run with their covert. Home.

Maybe Lind should have taken more care in tidying their home, because it seemed they had a guest.

A curvy woman with long ginger hair perched on top of a hoversled full of shipping containers in the hold.

“Well well well,” she said. “If it isn’t Lind Balazs, Official Heart Throb of Mandalore!” She beckoned Lind with a crooked finger and a saucy smirk. “Does the big bad Mando wanna go for a little joyride with me?”

“It’s good to see you, too, Kalypso.”

Kalypso didn’t seem to mind Lind’s lukewarm greeting.

“Did you check out Auni’s like I told you? Try that spicy juice smoothie? Almost no one else serves it. Too intense. I hear it’s got your special sauce in it.”

“I actually had a blue milkshake. My sweet tooth was acting up.”

“Way to buck the stereotype, Lind. In case you come over with a proper Mando craving,” she knocked the side of the crate with her fist. “I got your fix right here.”

So she’d finally filled the pirjanad order. Mandalorian pirjanad sauce was infamously strong and so popular galaxy-wide that the Empire had allowed its continued production. If the Empire liked anything as much as brutalizing its citizens, it was squeezing them for every drop of profit possible. It was also a convenient lure for hunting rogue Mandalorian factions. It was hard to privately acquire an entire covert’s worth without raising Imperial suspicion.

“The covert will be in your debt. They’ve been eating unseasoned military surplus rations for months. Grandmother thinks someone might start a revolt if they don’t get something to eat with actual flavor soon.”

“Oh, dear, darling Lind. You absolute sweetheart. Always thinking of your people. You work too hard. You deserve something nice. Just you. You need to… relax.”

Lind had no idea how she managed to make that sound so indecent. Lind wasn’t sure where all that hypersexual energy was generated, but they’d just accepted its presence at this point. It wasn’t personal. Kalypso flirted with just about everything that moved. Once Lind learned to ignore it, Kalypso had turned out to be a reliable contact.

Kalypso Neir specialized in smuggling and underhanded thievery of all kinds. Whatever Lind needed, she could get. Her skill and instinct was almost preternatural, and Lind often wondered if her past might have involved a certain mystical order of warrior monks. Lind never asked. It would be rude. So what if Lind had had more run-ins with Imperial Inquisitors on Kalypso’s jobs than any others? Lind got to practice some largely unused Mandalorian combat disciplines and scored some shiny little red souvenirs. Even a couple foundlings they brought back to the covert. What was the harm, really?

The Revenant’s stealth capabilities had proved very useful for Kalypso in return. However, she didn’t enjoy spending too much time on board. She said the mood lighting was a mood killer.

“You know, baby,” Kalypso’s voice normally had a sultry timbre but she was clearly laying it on extra thick. “I have some friends over at a pleasure house on Ord Mantell. They have something for everyone, even picky bastards like you.”

“That’s very generous, but I don’t think they have what I’m looking for.”

It wasn’t that Lind had never daydreamed about a pretty lifeform they saw serving drinks at the cantina or strolling by on the street. But as Kalypso would put it, they’d been burned.

“Lind, you pay them to do whatever you want. They’re not gonna argue about taking the bucket off or not kissing or whatever it is you’re so worried about.”

“Maybe you can trust that sort of transaction, but I can’t.”

Kalypso meant well, but she and Lind had fundamentally different needs.

“I mean it when I say they have something for everyone. You could request a playmate who is physically unable to see you!”

“It’s more than that, Kalypso.”

“Why Lind…could you be hiding a sweet romantic soul under that hard casing?”

“I suppose it’s possible,” Lind conceded. More than possible. Lind had often been accused of hopeless romanticism as a child. It was apparently an unfit trait for the Mandalorian lifestyle.

“Awww!!! Lind is chasing bounties and love! How precious! You know,” she traced a manicured finger over the contour of Lind’s central chest diamond. “I love you, Lind.” Kalypso winked.

“That really warms my sweet romantic soul. Still a hard pass.”

“Aww…” Her pout was almost convincing.

“Hey, you floozy!” a voice called from the ladder that led into the main area of the ship. It was Tippi. “You gonna sit there flirting all day or are you going to do your job and unload those crates like a good girl?”

“Oh Tippi!” Kalypso sniggered. “You know I’m never a good girl.”

“So long as those crates get shifted, I don’t care what you get up to.”

“Snippy Tippi,” Kalypso sing songed as she slid off the crate like she’d achieved a fluid state of matter. “Lind, do you suppose you could use those big strong Mando muscles to give me a hand?”

Lind honestly didn’t have the muscle tone they appeared to. They consisted most of tenacity, padding, and heavy armor, but that wasn’t to say they weren’t strong. With their combined effort, it didn’t take long to get the crates unloaded. It took them much longer to rearrange the mess so they could get it loaded and tied down safely. It was a horrible puzzle no one enjoyed the process of solving.

When they were done Tippi approached them holding a familiar little pouch in her small paw.

“Lind, I made a new batch of candies.”

“I know. I can smell them from here.”

“You worked hard. You deserve a treat like Kalypso says.”

“Thank you very much.” They took a homemade candy from the pouch. It shone like a piece of amber in the light. There was something suspended inside. Lind did their best to maneuver it through their helmet seal into their mouth. It was much more difficult than a straw.

“Lind,” Kalypso said, all traces of coquettishness gone. “There’s a bug in that.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to eat it.”

“I know.”

“She only gave it to you because she thinks it’s funny watching you struggle.”

“I know.”

Tippi grinned while Kalypso’s face twisted in revulsion as Lind finally managed to get the candy to its destination.

“You know what?” Kalypso said. “The standing offer for smooching is now officially off the table.” Lind shrugged.

“We’d better get going anyway. Got a guild job lined up,” Lind said as they handed the bounty puck to Tippi. She activated it and skimmed the job description.

“Pykes stealing coaxium again? They didn’t even take that much. Holy- why is the bounty so high?”

“Rich client with a sore ego. The agent at the guild said he wants to send a message that he’s not to be messed with. We came highly recommended. Also, Boba Fett was busy.”

Kalypso peeked over Tippi’s shoulder at the payment listed on the display. She whistled.

“Is that actually his rate?”

“Sure is. The client seems to think anyone in a Mando helmet is basically interchangeable.”

“Oh please,” Tippi scoffed. “You’re better than Boba Fett. Bet you’d pull as much as he does if the covert let you take on more high profile gigs. You need to start charging more, Lind.”

“Just warn me before you go all Fett on your economic status. I’m gonna have to adjust my business model for inflation,” Kalypso said. “Well, don’t want to keep you two from all those shiny credits. Hop along, now.” She patted the side of Lind’s helmet just like Auni had. It was an almost motherly gesture. “Don’t get in too much trouble out there, sweetheart. You’ll worry Tippi to an early grave.”

“Already headed that way. My lifespan is like half of yours.”

***

  
They engaged in a brief dogfight with the Pyke’s freighter. The Revenant’s only apparent armament were its two forward facing cannons, and it was easily outgunned.

They could have pulled out the camouflaged swivelling ion cannon, disabled the freighter, and then used one of the beskar tipped fins to pierce the hull in strategic spots to take out their weapons and defense systems.

Tippi knew the exact locations of every major system in almost every model of ship produced in the last century. Anything she didn’t know, she could guess with alarming accuracy. She claimed she was the top of her class, though she never actually said where she had graduated from.

But all that effort wasn’t necessary. The dogfight was simple pageantry.

Tippi pulled out of visual range into a cluster of asteroids, and activated the stygium powered cloaking device. Any possible hiccups in the cloak were handily hidden in the void of space thanks to the black paint on the hull. She put out a false signal that told the freighter they had retreated to hyperspace. In reality, the Revenant was broadcasting frequencies that interfered with the Freighter’s sensors and made them invisible on scopes. As far as that freighter knew, it was alone out there.

“Think you can override their airlock if we get close enough to dock?” Lind asked.

“Of course, but we’re not doing that.” Tippi double checked her readings. “The airlock on that model leads directly into a bottleneck. Effective anti-piracy measure.”

“Unfortunate for those of us with a yen for good old fashioned pirating while simultaneously not being full of smoking blaster holes.”

“I heard the Pykes took a hit like everyone else in the sector with those new Imperial tariffs. I bet they’re running that freighter on a skeleton crew, but that’s still at least six blasters and no cover. I’m not having you risk a head on attack even with your personal shield.”

“Does that freighter have any other points of entry?”

“Just the main loading ramp if you want everything and everyone sucked out into space the minute we crack it open. The inner structure was built to self destruct, not surrender. No guarantee we could pick up every coaxium canister, and the client won’t cover the full bounty on a partial recovery.”

“So we’re making our own door?”

“We’re making our own door.”

The Revenant had four spikes that could be folded flat against the bottom of her hull. They were placed in a ring around a small hatch. When extended, any former clone trooper would say it reminded them of the Droch-class boarding ships the Separatist army had used against Republic ships during the Clone Wars.

This was no coincidence, because the Revenant’s spikes served the same exact functions. The gripping and piercing mechanism was a slightly modified version of the Droch-class schematics. The biggest difference was that once they breached the target’s hull, the hatch deployed not a squad of battle droids but a single Mandalorian.

“Alright, Tippi. Make sure you jam all the comms, ours included. Don’t need anyone piggybacking a distress signal through our system like you did to those Imperials over Malastare. I’ll hail you from the freighter once I clean house.”

“Want to clean our house too when you get back? The cargo hold is kind of a mess.”

“This whole ship is a mess.”

“Watch it. She’s my baby.” Tippi gently stroked a wall panel. She frowned and pulled her hand away. “Wow that’s actually sort of sticky. In all seriousness, we should pick up a cleaning droid or something.”

“I thought she’s your baby. You don’t bathe your own baby?”

“I am very tempted to open that hatch early and let you die horribly in space.”

“Who’s gonna help you bathe the baby then? I’ll go get in position.”

“You do that. I’m dropping you off in their portside hold. You got that schematic downloaded like I said?”

Lind rapped lightly on the side of their helmet.

“Already running on my internal viewscreen.”

“That’s my Mando.”

***

The Revenant decloaked at the last possible second. It rammed its boarding spikes into the cargo hold of the freighter, forming a sealed corridor between the ships. It happened so fast the two Pyke sentinels playing Sabacc atop a barrel of spice barely had time to register Lind drop from the Revenant’s hatch into their hold.

Lind’s rocket boots ignited at the last possible moment and they hovered briefly in the air and took aim. The bodies and Lind’s boots hit the deck about the same time.

Lind hit the access pad on the door before ducking behind the frame as it whooshed open. Several blaster bolts whizzed past, striking the crates of spice piled against the far wall. They were aiming about head height. Stupid. Abdomen was a bigger target to bring down an enemy. Once they’re no longer moving, a killshot to the head would be much easier to make.

Lind activated the small, personal shield on their left gauntlet. Tippi didn’t need to know about this.

They held it up, tucked their helmet down, and charged their opponents. The Pykes hadn’t accounted for an energy shield and a beskar helmet moving at a very high speed in their direction. One of their bolts glanced off the side of Lind’s helmet. Good thing they weren’t using heavy calibre rifles. That might have stung.

The three sentinels in the hall didn’t have time to adjust their aim before Lind was on top of them. They went down in two shots and a well aimed vibroblade that pierced clean through the furthest one’s visor. Lind didn’t pause as they passed, snatching the vibroblade from the Pyke’s face before the body realized it was dead and collapsed.

The two pilots almost sealed the cockpit in time. Lind’s kama just barely missed being caught as the blast doors slammed shut behind them.

Lind didn’t chance blasters around all that sensitive equipment, instead opting to slash one pilot across the neck with their vibroblade while simultaneously slamming the butt of their blaster rifle into the other’s chin so hard they heard something inside his cloth armor snap. From the odd angle of his head as he fell backwards, probably his spine. They reversed their grip on the vibroblade and stabbed it through the first pilot’s already injured neck. His clutching hands did very little to stop the blade’s progress.

Lind took stock of the cockpit’s controls and made a chilling discovery. They had a long distance transceiver active. This was new for the Pykes. The transceiver was trying to broadcast a continuous all-clear back to a Pyke base, but Tippi had jammed all outgoing signals. That meant the Pykes knew something was wrong.

Lind accessed the ship’s log. It seemed they’d caught the freighter at a midpoint of their journey. Their cavalry could arrive from either their departure point or destination, but Lind estimated they had about two hours before then. Looked like their timetable had moved up.

Tippi’s guess that they were using a skeleton crew seemed accurate, but Lind had one more cargo hold on the opposite side of the ship to check. Lind sent Tippi a tentative all clear anyway and an update about the Pyke’s incoming reinforcements. Better not to waste time. Lind would rather risk that hold not being empty than wait around and be caught by a ship full of heavily armed Pykes.

Lind disengaged the blast doors, rifle at the ready. They approached the second cargo hold, making sure they were out of blast radius as they activated the entry pad.

The door hissed open. No blasterfire, but there was a sound. It sounded like someone crying. Someone young.

Lind didn’t put it past the gang to try to mislead them with a sound recording. It wasn’t their usual tactic but it seemed they were trying new things. They turned the corner quickly, blaster first, personal shield activated and…

It was a small twi’lek girl. All the coaxium must have been in the other hold with the spice where Lind entered. This one held nothing but a filthy blanket unfit for an akk dog, the girl, and the chain around her neck bolted to the wall.

The Pykes dealt in the slave trade but only to supply workers for their spice mines. This girl didn’t look like she’d be much of an investment in a harsh environment like that. Lind had heard the Pykes had been trying to form an alliance with the Hutts to combat the loss of profit from Imperial interference. The Hutts liked nice, innocent little twi’lek girls just like this one.

Lind lowered their blaster and holstered it. They deactivated their shield and held their empty hands in front of them. See? No threat.

The girl cowered as they approached slowly. Lind wracked their brain for what little they knew of Ryl, the Twi’lek language.

“Kei’nata tun,” Lind tried. It was a basic greeting. They knew their pronunciation must be abysmal. Lind’s ex girlfriend had made fun of how their accent made the gentle language sound harsh. The girl’s head raised a little, and her eyes widened in surprise. She probably hadn’t expected to hear her own language coming out of this stranger. She craned her head to the side, trying to see around to Lind’s back. Probably looking for a pair of lekku. She was curious. Curious was better than scared. Lind pointed to their own chest.

“Muchi.” Friend. “Do you speak Basic?”

The girl’s face scrunched in confusion. That was a hard no. That complicated things. The internal system of Lind’s helmet could translate several common languages with mixed accuracy but it couldn’t tell them what to say in return. They could upgrade the system, but that meant less space for weapons systems and intel gathering features. No self respecting Mandalorian would make that sacrifice. Kriff literacy, they supposed. It was hardly as if Mandalorians were known for their negotiation tactics that didn’t involve aggressive stabbing.

Lind pointed to the collar around the girl’s neck. She reached up and touched the metal collar, her brow ridge furrowed in a question. What about it? Lind nodded, then mimed breaking a collar apart at their own throat. They pointed back at the girl and tilted their helmet with their own silent question. Can I do this for you?

The girl’s eyes got somehow wider, this time with excitement. She nodded enthusiastically and didn’t shrink back when Lind knelt down in front of her.

Lind inspected the collar. It was cheap garbage. Not even electrified. It was held shut with a couple small screws poorly hidden under a bit of filigree. Lind wouldn’t even have to bother bypassing the lock mechanism.

Lind pulled a small hydrospanner from its place on their belt and unsheathed the vibroknife for a much less deadly task. There was still blood on it that Lind hastily tried to wipe away on their kama. The girl noticed, of course. Her eyes were trained on the smears of green plasma. Lind decided it might be a good idea to gain a little more trust before they got the vibroblade near the girl’s neck. Didn't need her panicking at the worst possible moment.

Lind pointed to their chest again.

“Lind.” Then they pointed to the girl and cocked their head to the side again. The girl was quick on the uptake and pointed to her own chest.

“Tula.” Lind nodded to convey understanding.

“Muchi.” Lind said again. Friends now. They held up the tools and tried in basic. “Ok?”

Tula understood that word. She nodded.

“Ok.”

***

Tippi tapped her foot impatiently. Lind had hailed the Revenant with the all-clear and a warning about the Pyke’s own all-clear signal situation. They knew as well as Tippi that the chronometer was ticking, yet Lind wasn’t where they were supposed to be at the bottom of the breach. This was very out of character. Lind always kept their word. Where were they? Had something else gone wrong?

Tippi would never admit to being worried as she started to pace next to the hatch.

“Tippi!” LIND. Tippi peered down the shaft formed by the boarding spikes.

“What were you doing? Taking a nap?”

“I made a friend. Stand back, we’re coming up!” A friend? What did that mean?

Tippi heard Lind’s jetpack ignite. Jetpacks were notoriously difficult to maneuver. It was part of the standard warning label not to use one in a confined space. Just like the confined space of the breach’s tunnel. One wrong move and you could hit the side of the shaft, rupture the fuel tank, and then bye bye. You’d have to be insane to attempt it. Or a Mandalorian. Which Tippi sort of figured was more or less the same thing at the end of the day.

Lind had told them about the intense training they had undergone to be deemed simply proficient with a jetpack. When they had free time planetside, Lind would run drills. Apparently it was a whole technique. It had a name. Something lame about a bird or fire. It sure looked impressive, though.

Tippi stepped back as Lind rose up through the hatch. Just like a smoking convor, or whatever. They had a skinny flame-orange child wrapped up in their arms. Lind set down on the deck, but the little twi’lek seemed very reluctant to let go of them. Tippi knew the feeling. Lind had carried her once while flying that jetpack. Tippi had decided then and there it was not going to be a repeat experience if she could help it.

“That’s some funny looking coaxium you got there, Lind.”

“Found her in the other hold. Pretty sure she’s not in league with the Pykes.”

“Just pretty sure?”

“Can you keep an eye on her? She doesn’t speak Basic. I’m going back down for the regular looking coaxium.”

Lind jumped back through the hatch. The girl gasped and ran to look over the edge. She made it in time to see Lind ignite their rocket boots and land safely in the freighter below.

Once she was sure there wasn’t a Mando shaped smear down there, she turned back to Tippi. She pointed to herself.

“Tula.”

“Tippi. Pleasure to meet you. Now you gotta scooch on over so I can get the winch set up. We’re not mixing jetpacks and coaxium, you get me?”

Based on that blank look, the kid definitely did not get her. Tippi sighed. She had to do all the work around here.

***

  
“The kid seems to be handling all this pretty well.”

“I thought she might get upset seeing the bodies on our way over here but she just kicked one hard in the face and laughed about it.”

“Wow. She’s a little psychopath. You must be so proud.”

“She’s got spirit.”

“Sure sure. So what are we doing with that big hunk of evidence out there?” She jabbed a clawed thumb out of the viewport at the freighter floating listlessly through the void of space. “I’d like the Revenant to keep its air of mystery if it’s all the same to you. Don’t need anyone finding out how we operate. Dead men may tell no tales but a mighty big hole tells its own stories.”

“That’s true,” Lind nodded. “Can’t risk just leaving it. We’ve got options, what are you thinking?”

“Well, Tippi smirked. “You already know my favorite solution to these sorts of dilemmas.” She mimed an explosion with her hands. “BOOM.” She snickered.

Tula’s eyes got big, and she tugged on the sleeve of Lind’s flightsuit to get their attention. When Lind turned to her, she raised herself up on her tiptoes as if that might help Lind understand better. She asked something in rapidfire Ryl. She was pointing emphatically out of the viewport at the Pyke freighter.

“What did she say?”

“She wants to know if we can really blow it up.”

“Tell her it’s not a question of if I can blow it up,” Tippi said. “It’s how much of it she wants left after I’m done.” Lind did their best to relay the message. It must have been received because Tula’s eyes lit up and she started bouncing excitedly on the balls of her bare feet. She gave a lengthy reply that Lind had to take their time translating.

“My translator is having trouble with her dialect, but I think she said to make sure there’s nothing left so those men can never find peace in the afterlife. Bloodthirsty little thing. She’d be an excellent Mandalorian. Do you think she could be the one to hit the detonator? It would probably mean a lot to her.”

“Sure. Do you have anymore of your sister’s uj cake in the conservator? A girl’s first explosives detonation is a big event. We should celebrate. Now let’s be quick and attach those mines.”

It was a truly glorious explosion. They would have to stock up on explosives again, but the tiny sparkling scraps of metal drifting through the black of space was well worth it. They made their hyperspace jump just as the Pyke reinforcements dropped out of theirs. Tippi’s targeted camouflage frequencies would show the Revenant as nothing more than a brief ghost image on their scanners.

Safely on their way to deliver the payload to the Guild, they took some time to unwind.

They all sat cross legged on the floor of Lind’s quarters. Lind had lit the forge just enough to warm the space and draped a delicately embroidered throw blanket around Tula’s bare shoulders. She was snuggled against Lind’s side, devouring the uj’alayi, a Mandalorian confection of dried fruit, nuts, and sticky spiced syrup, like the ravenous little beast she was.

“I think someone has a crush,” Tippi teased as Tula pressed her little head against Lind’s pauldron. Lind patted Tula’s head fondly.

“It’s the armor,” Lind shrugged their opposite shoulder so as not to disturb Tula. “Anyone looks good in this stuff.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re good with kids. You listen. They notice stuff like that.”

“I always liked being on foundling duty at the covert. We raise them communally so everyone gets the chance to bond without creating strictly defined family ties. Makes it less awkward down the road if they marry in. Don’t know if I could handle raising one on my own, though. No idea how Sasch handles her duties and my niece.”

“Helps to have a partner,” Tippi said quietly.

“Guess so.”

Tippi looked over at Tula who was licking the sticky syrup of the cake from her fingers.

“She’s so young. I don’t know much about twi’lek biology. You think she’s even hit puberty yet?”

“Going by the length of her lekku, probably not that long ago. A year maybe? She’s still just a child.” Tippi shuddered.

“Which Hutt do you think they were planning to give her to?”

“Given her age, probably Jabba.”

Tula’s head shot up at the name and she scooted away from Lind. Her eyes were wide and her lower lip quivered. It was a look of terror and betrayal. Lind quickly gestured between Tula and themselves.

“Muchi,” Lind said. “Jabba… schutta.” They pointed to themselves and said viciously, “Jabba ch’sei!” They swiped their hand across their throat in a common sign. Kill. They gestured much more gently to the Revenant's deck and laid their palm flat against it. “Circaa…um.. Safe. Do you know safe?” Tula nodded. Then Lind reached out and briefly tappd Tula’s shoulder. “Freeta, karawn, gida.” Tula smiled up at Lind, her fear gone completely.

“Okay, I know schutta is an insult. What else did you say to her?”

“I said we’re friends. I’d kill Jabba. That this is a safe place and she is a brave, strong warrior.” Tippi nodded.

“Not very eloquent, but it gets the job done. Your usual M.O.” She frowned. “Jabba’s a sick bastard. He’d eat her alive if his rancor didn’t get her first.” She reached out and patted Tula’s head herself. Tula giggled. Lind wondered if they had overestimated her age. Maybe she was just an early bloomer. That made it all the worse.

“Hopefully we never get confirmation on this debate, but don’t count her out. She’s tough.” Lind pointed at Tula and added in Ryl for Tula’s benefit, “Distombe.” Strong. Tula beamed at them. “If it wouldn’t bring the entire Hutt clan down on the covert, I really would kill Jabba myself.”

“Such a shame for Jabba how we’re always previously engaged when he sends his goons with job offers. Creep.”

“We need to take her home.”

“To Ryloth? Lind, that’s practically across the galaxy. We don’t have the time or the credits.”

“Until I reunite her with her people, she’s my responsibility. This is the way.”

“This is the way.” Tippi mocked.

“Theeses wei!” Tula added, eager to be included. Lind nodded encouragingly at her.

“Tula,” Lind said. “Um… hang on.. How do I say this?” They struggled for a minute before asking something in a few more halting words. Tula’s face dropped again. She actually started crying this time, shaking her head in a negative answer to Lind’s question. Tippi put her arms around Tula and laid her soft head against her neck.

“I was afraid she’d say that,” Lind said.

“What the hell did you ask her, buckethead?” Tippi hissed at them.

“I asked if she had a family who loved her.”

“What kind of sick question is that?”

“Ryloth has been in a bad way since well before the Clone Wars. A lot of families end up selling their female children to slavers.” Tippi’s mouth dropped.

“That’s horrible?? How could anyone do that to their own child? I could never...” Lind shrugged.

“I’m sure some of them are actually just awful people, but most of the time the parents think this is their only shot at a better future for the kid. A lot of traffickers set it up like a legitimate business, promising safety. An education. They get the parents to pay them half the time.”

“That’s repulsive.” Tippi rubbed Tula’s back as she cried. Tippi didn’t seem to mind all the tears and snot that were matting the fur on her head. “So if she’s reacting like this, that probably means she knows it was her own family who handed her over. We can’t take her back there.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Well that at least saves us some fuel. So what do we do?”

“Remember that diner Kalypso recommended?”

“Yeah. Those were some good Hoppers. Not opposed to getting the kid a bantha burger or something. She looks half starved.”

“That’s because she probably is. Easier to keep under control if she’s too weak to fight back.”

“Please stop telling me distressing things about this child.”

“That’s just how it is. Doesn’t mean we have to stand for it, though. Kalypso hangs around all those pleasure houses for more than just fun. She’s scouting. The waitress at that diner has some connections with an organization that helps trafficked twi’lek girls. Gets them set up somewhere safe. Job training, housing, adoption if they’re young enough. Kalypso transports the girls for her sometimes. That’s how Kalypso knows about the diner. You’d never catch her in such a wholesome establishment otherwise.”

“Let’s go check the holonet for that diner’s contact info. Think you can take Tula duty?” She was still sobbing weakly. “Don’t think she should be left alone.”

Lind held out their arms as Tippi gently shifted Tula towards them. Tula clung like a mynock to Lind’s neck, wrapping her thin legs tightly around their waist, as Lind carried her to the cockpit.

It took Tippi a few tries to find the right diner. Tula finally stopped crying and was watching with rapt fascination as Tippi keyed in the contact information she was pulling up. At last, Auni’s floating, blue face was staring back at them.

“What do you troublemakers wan- Oh! What a darling little thing!” She cooed at Tula and said something in Ryl. Tula lit up like a star and immediately began chattering to Auni.

“Uh oh. Looks like you’ve been replaced as the favorite, Lind,” Tippi taunted.

“I am overcome with jealousy.” They actually were. Just a little.

“Oh don’t you worry, Lind,” Auni said. “According to Tula, you’re still the big damn hero.”

“Auni, can you help her?” Lind asked.

“I’m gonna have to make a few calls.”

“If you can’t…” Lind hesitated, looking down at Tula who had climbed off of their lap to wave her hand through the holo image of Auni’s face. “I could always take her back with me. To my covert.”

“With your Mando buddies?” Auni sounded skeptical. “Is that really a safe place for a kid?”

“As safe as any in this galaxy. We have ten foundlings right now. A couple are around her age. She’d be well cared for.”

“Hope those helmets come in a bigger size. The lekku are gonna be a tight squeeze.”

“She’d only need one if she decided to take up the creed. If that’s what she chose, I’d make sure she had a helmet that fit properly. Custom. We already have the basic specs. There have been twi’lek Mandos before. My clan had a togruta once. Three lekku and two montrals. Tricky to fabricate.”

“Alright, before you start taking measurements, let me make those calls. I don’t think we’re going to have to resort to it, but I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

It would have been a filthy lie to say Lind was happy Auni came through with those calls. A large part of them had hoped they could bring Tula to the covert. They could bring her treats when they visited her and the rest of the foundlings. See her grow into the indomitable woman Lind was sure she’d become one day.

Auni said there could be no visits where Tula was headed. It was safer if less people knew how to find her. Lind understood that of course. It was best if Tula was with her own people, but it was still painful the way she cried when they said goodbye.

“Too bad the little puffer pig ate all the uj cake,” Tippi said. “You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“She’s gonna be ok, right? They’ll be able to protect her?”

“Auni knows what she’s about. It’s not up to you to take care of every helpless being you find. If Jabba’s rancor looked at you at the right angle with its sad, beady eyes you’d be patting its head and feeding it uj cake, too.”

“No I wouldn’t.” Lind crossed their arms and slumped down in the co-pilot’s chair.

“Yes you would. Sit up straight and stop pouting.”

“Hypothetically, if you were right, I wouldn’t have to admit to it or like it.”

“Nothing hypothetical about it. You actively pick up pathetic lifeforms like it's your job.”

“It is sometimes. Didn’t see you complaining when I saved up your furry butt from that squad of stormtroopers when we first met.”

“I’m sorry, you think I’m the helpless one? Who actually got us out of that mess when they sent in the death troopers? Whose ship are you so graciously allowed to live on because you got your own blown out of the sky and had nowhere to go?”

“So you’re admitting you’re the one with a hero complex.”

“Oh please. You don’t need saving. You know what I appreciate about you, Lind? You’re incredibly hard to kill. Not like…” She trailed off. She seemed parsecs away.

“Not like...?”

“Nobody. Stormtroopers. Whatever. Just forget it. I need more 12 gauge insulated wiring for the calcinator so make sure you pick some up when you’re planetside next. Don’t get 15 gauge like last time.”

“Picky, picky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> She Works Hard For The Money by Donna Summers  
> Dirty Car by Studio Killers  
> Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting by Elton John  
> Ship to Wreck by Florence and the Machine  
> Ask The Lonely by Journey
> 
> Next chapter you get Boba. I promise.


	2. Never Meet Your Antihero

“Lind, do you copy?” said Tippi into her handheld comm. “You’d better move it. I got a call waiting for you from your sister.” She glared at the blinking alert on the Revenant’s cockpit dash. Sasch may not have been physically present, but Tippi still felt like she was intruding.

Lind had been out on a Guild job for the past three days. The merchandise was a simple data stick and not a living being, so Lind wouldn’t have to sit down in the hold to keep an eye on the containment cell when they returned to the ship. Tippi appreciated solitude, but she preferred having Lind around much more. Unfortunately, she probably wouldn’t get to enjoy their company for long. If Sasch was contacting them, it meant the covert had a new task lined up for Lind.

“Just got here,” came Lind’s crackling reply. “Would you please lower the loading ramp?”

“Sure thing,” Tippi hit the release control for the bay doors. She took the comm with her as she walked down the hall towards the cargo hold’s ladder. “How’d the tweaks I made to that Amban phase-pulse blaster work out?” Lind’s heavy sigh was audible over the comm. “Uh oh. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I tried to disintegrate a nerf.”

“Lind, are you kidding? That’s way outside the specs on that rifle!”

“I know that and you know that, but I don’t think he cared too much when he charged me. It half worked.”

“Explain.”

“Like I said, _half_. Half the nerf disintegrated.”

“And the other half?”

“Oh, he’s… around.”

Tippi scrambled down the ladder and watched as the loading ramp descended and Lind came into view. 

The nerf certainly was _around_. All around. Lind was soaked in gore. Little tufts of fur were stuck all over their flight suit and armor. Tippi put her paws on her hips.

“I know this is the part where you tell me I should see the other guy but I think that’s a piece of his intestines dangling off your antenna.”

Lind reached up to pull the bit of flesh from their helmet. They held it to their visor for closer inspection.

“Actually, this might be a tendon?” They tossed it to the ground and took a step toward the ramp.

“Hold it right there! You’re not dripping nerf goo all over my floor.”

“What does it matter? It’s already filthy.”

“True, but at least it doesn’t smell like nerf guts. Stay there. I’m gonna hose you down. Then I can use your wet body to mop up my filthy floor.”

***

Lind answered their sister’s comm in nothing but their skivvies and helmet. Lind lost about half their body mass with the armor stripped away. Their narrow shoulders beneath the helmet made them appear so top heavy it seemed a miracle they could remain upright under its weight.

“Lind,” the little blue projection hovering over the dash said. “I realize you have always been less formal, but is this not a little too casual?” 

“Sorry, Sasch. Didn’t want to keep you waiting longer than you already had. My kit is in the wash.”

“Would it be a mistake if I were to ask what occurred?”

“There was an incident with a nerf.”

“I take that to mean I would not care for further details. Let us move on. Grandmother has a new set of orders for you.”

It was always business with Sasch. She took to responsibility like a Mon Calamari to the ocean. As the elder sibling, Sasch had been bossing Lind around since they could comprehend speech. _It is for your own good_ , was a favorite phrase, but a little strange to hear from someone only a handful of years your senior. 

It was the natural progression for Sasch to rise in the ranks to become the alor’ad, a captain, of Clan Balazs’ squad. She was the right hand of their grandmother who was the undisputed alor, head of the entire covert. 

Lind personally suspected Grandmother had always had aspirations to become Mand’alor, the leader of all the clans combined. Historically, it was rare for them all to come together under a single banner. It had already been unlikely when Grandmother was at her peak. Currently, unity was far less important than plain old survival.

When Lind was about six standard years, most of Clan Balazs had left their ancestral land on Concord Dawn. Accompanied by a handful of smaller clans, they became a secretive, galaxy-roving covert. It was an extreme measure only taken in the face of a great cataclysm to preserve the Way of the Mandalore from annihilation. 

At the time, a pacifist faction led by Duchess Satine Kryze had been threatening a revision of Mandalorian society which many feared would escalate to cultural genocide. Lind’s grandmother thought it was wiser to flee until things blew over, rather than unnecessarily waste lives in open revolt. Especially the lives of Clan Balazs. The members of the cala who stayed behind on Concord Dawn had felt it was an overreaction. They were all dead now.

To be fair, the prioritization of the Balazs legacy wasn’t mere conceit on Grandmother’s part. At least, not entirely. They weren’t well known beyond the system, but that didn’t mean they didn’t wield their own brand of influence. Clans like Vizsla or Kryze publicly vying for power were of much more interest to the casual offworld observer. Balazs maintained a careful neutrality among the ever shifting power struggle between the political houses of Mandalore. 

Throughout their history, most Mandalorian clans busied themselves with war and conquest. While they had done plenty of that themselves, Clan Balazs’ primary purpose was preserving and curating knowledge. For generations, they faithfully recorded the history of the Way of the Mandalore and produced the highest concentration of traditionally trained craftspeople of any clan. Work done on a Balazs anvil was highly sought after, and it was a particularly high honor to be apprenticed to a Balazs beskar-smith.

Grandmother had been considered a legendary armorer even into her old age. Recently, her hands had developed a tremor that prevented a clean hammer strike. She said her results were almost as uncertain in quality as Lind’s, who had been her last apprentice as an active armorer. Grandmother was also considered a legendary harsh critic.

Grandmother Balazs hadn’t been wrong about the danger of the Duchess’ pacifism, but it manifested very differently than anticipated. Ironically, the instability caused by the conflict between the Duchess and Pre Vizsla's extremist Death Watch faction was what primed Mandalore for its ultimate downfall.

More Mandalorians fled the system during and after the Clone Wars. Some followed Clan Balazs’ example and formed coverts of their own. When the Mandalorian uprising against the Empire was crushed a few years ago, there was a second wave of new coverts formed. Not nearly as many as the first wave. There simply weren’t enough Mandalorians left alive. 

Clan Balazs actively pursued smaller coverts to take under their wing as satellites. Sasch coordinated the exchange of vital intel and resources between them all. Unfortunately, even as a more established covert, there was only so much help they could provide for their vode, their brothers. 

The Empire had made it a hobby to find and exterminate any organized Mandalorian factions outside Imperial control. It was safer for the coverts to function as separately as possible. Smaller numbers were harder for the Imperials to identify. If a covert was lost to a raid, the overall damage to the population was minimized. 

While it was noteworthy to see a Mandalorian at large in the galaxy, the Empire only considered it suspicious when they were spotted in groups. Bounty hunting was a popular and convenient line of work for runners like Lind looking to secure resources and credits for their people. Not only were Mandalorians uniquely suited to the profession, but there was a centuries old precedent of independent Mandalorian warriors wandering the galaxy as mercenaries for hire. The stereotype had even inspired a dedicated subgenre of action holos. They were rarely culturally sensitive or accurate, much less good, but Lind enjoyed them. 

“Your target,” Sasch said. “Is Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin was a member of one of the satellites and shared Lind’s position as a runner. His covert consisted largely of former Death Watch members who had fled Mandalore after a disastrous alliance with a dar’jetti they called Maul. He had briefly claimed the title of Mand’alor before he betrayed and abandoned them to their fate at the hands of the Grand Army of the Republic. 

Privately, Lind’s grandmother said they had deserved it. Never trust the jetii. No Jedi, no Sith, no Force Adept. She clung to the old war stories of Mandalorians fighting glorious battles against the Jedi Order, and to the old pain she herself had suffered in her youth at their hands. Killing a Jedi had once been considered a high honor for members of Lind’s clan. Lind’s grandmother made sure every child and foundling in their covert learned the old methods cultivated when the Jedi were still a threat. Now, they existed as little more than rumor and fairy tales, like the Mandalorians themselves. Even so, Grandmother Balazs was not one to let bad blood go cold.

Despite her disdain for their past associations, Grandmother had ordered Sasch to arrange relief supplies for Din’s covert when she received word that they had been forced to relocate by an Imperial raid. They were fools, but they were still Mandalorian.

Din had been out on assignment during the attack. They had to assume his secure channel to his covert had been compromised, so he had been left adrift in the galaxy with no way to know where they had gone. 

“You are to locate Djarin. He should be an active member on the Bounty Hunters’ Guild roster. Provide him with the rations and supplies you were meant to deliver to us on your next visit. We can stretch what we have a while longer.”

“Even the pirjanad? For morale.” 

“Yes, I suppose you had better, ” Sasch sighed regretfully. “I shall transmit the coordinates of his covert’s new base to you. Be certain he was not the source of the leak before you give them to him. However, if he is, be sure to… mend the leak.””

It wouldn’t be the first time Lind had been asked to “mend a leak” and it wouldn’t be the last. It was rarely a pleasant experience.

“Djarin wouldn’t betray us.”

“There is no certainty but death, Lind.” That was one of their grandmother’s favorite proverbs. “That being said, betrayal can take many forms. Be sure it is indeed him wearing the helmet. You both know the watch words.”

Lind visited seven Bounty Hunter’s Guild chapters in as many systems before they tracked Din down on Nevarro. He sat at the bar ignoring the drink before him. It was common knowledge in most Guild-run cantinas that a Mandalorian’s drink should be served with a straw. Either this bartender was new or he was trying to bully Din into removing his helmet to satisfy his own curiosity. The general populace seemed to think a helmeted Mando was a mystery that desperately needed solving. Popular speculation was that it was done for religious beliefs or simple drama.

The truth was that Lind’s grandmother, ever the traditionalist, had decreed all members of her own covert and its satellites must abide by a strict paradigm set by Mandalorians of the distant past. It forbade the removal of helmets in the presence of others. The practice was meant to preserve anonymity and reduce the risk of being caught unawares and unprotected by the enemy. 

It was also a symbolic reminder that it was not their own survival that mattered, but the survival of the Way of the Mandalore. Until the danger had passed and they were free to disband the covert, everyone would share one face. 

Those who publicly removed their helmets were charged with the reckless endangerment of the covert and were made to rescind their oaths to the creed and, finally, exiled. It was extreme. Secretly, Lind felt they had lost more good people to complications from these standards than had been saved by them. There was no point arguing, though. As far as anyone could recall, no one had ever won a fight of any kind with Grandmother Balazs. 

No living being had seen Lind’s face since they took up the creed at ten years old. At the covert, they were expected to sleep in their full kit in the event of a raid. Lying in their bunk on the Revenant, completely undressed, was precious. 

The only exception was under dire circumstances when a life was on the line. Even then, viewers were restricted to members of the covert with relevant medical expertise. As a runner, Lind was prone to injuries with no Mandalorian medic to be had. There had been a small handful of times when they had needed Tippi to provide medical attention that they couldn’t administer themselves. A stab wound to their lower back that had just missed their kidney. A broken arm. They would turn off the lights, then Tippi would close her eyes and rely on echolocation to navigate and attend to the wounds. She wasn’t _technically_ seeing anything. Grandmother didn’t have to know.

“Hey barkeep,” Lind barked. “Get my vod here a straw,” The wrinkled theelin scrambled to obey. He wasn’t willing to try his luck with two Mandos.

Din turned on his stool to face them, and they exchanged a nod.

“Your face is familiar, vod,” Lind said.

“For it is yours as well.”

“This is the way,” they intoned in tandem. Tippi said they sounded like a cult when they did that. Lind was a little surprised she felt that way as someone who came from a culture like Chad’s where people lived together in closely intertwined colonies. Chadra-fan colonies could be even more clique-like than Mandalorian clans which were infamous for infighting. Still, Lind couldn’t deny the repetition in stereo _was_ a little bit creepy.

“It’s good to see you again,” Din said, clapping them on the shoulder. 

Lind enjoyed their rare meetings. He had a mellow personality, which was a welcome change of pace from Lind’s high strung clan. It hadn’t been very long ago that Din had been promoted to runner, and he had been markedly nervous the first time they met. His covert’s armorer had been one of Grandmother’s favorite students, and she had apparently really talked up the members of Clan Balazs. Din must have been expecting someone like Sasch, and it had taken Lind some real effort to get him to pull the gaffi stick out of his ass.

Din had been a foundling, and he took his oath to the creed very seriously. Maybe a little too seriously. Lind got the impression he was trying to compensate for some self-perceived deficiency. They had seen that sort of desperation to belong in many foundlings over the years. Lind had been born into the creed and had never really considered an alternative path, but they didn’t feel anyone who came by it another way was any less Mando. As Grandmother said, to be Mandalorian was not in the blood, but the soul.

Despite those being her exact words, Lind sometimes felt Grandmother Balazs showed favoritism towards covert members that came from established generational legacies. She must have set a bad example, because that unacknowledged prejudice was a little too widespread for Lind’s taste. If they relied on only the legacies, they’d be dying out even faster. As Grandmother also said, the foundlings were their future. Din was as true a Mandalorian as they came. He just needed to warm up to that fact.

Lind sat down on the stool beside Din. They pinched his left pauldron between their fingers and leaned in to inspect it more closely. 

“Your armor looks pretty beat, Din.” 

A full set of beskar armor was rare even before the Clone Wars. It was a sign of elite status. Many kits were made from higher quality durasteel and Lind had even heard of quadanium steel being used. If there was opportunity for any beskar in a kit, the helmet was always the first option. 

Now that the beskar reserves and production had been seized by the Empire, Mandalorians these days were lucky to have any armor at all. Standing next to Din, Lind was acutely aware they were fortunate to have access to their clan’s ancestral beskar reserves. They had melted down their buir’s armor upon his tragic death and reforged it as their own when they came of age. As a foundling, Din had no such privilege. His kit was a mismatched mess of scavenged pieces. A lot of it wasn’t even of Mandalorian make. 

Din’s pauldron was a cheap, mass-produced plastoid that he must have plucked off an Imperial shoretrooper if the blue paint was any indicator. It had probably seen better days even before its original owner… misplaced it. It had an enormous crack running through it. If left alone, it would eventually split into two.

Lind knew Din had a long way to go between here and his covert. Anything could happen, and he needed to be prepared. Lind couldn’t go with him, but they could still protect him in a less direct way. 

Lind took any opportunity to provide repairs and maintenance for Din and others like him. Lower quality armor needed to be serviced much more often than Lind’s nearly indestructible beskar, and the time runners spent away from their coverts meant visits to their armorers were infrequent. There was only so much one could do on their own without proper forge equipment. 

Grandmother would have chastised Lind for putting off their own repairs in favor of using the resources for someone else. Someone whose life was less valuable. She would be livid if Lind was killed by a fault in their armor they were capable of fixing but hadn’t. Lind figured they’d be dead so they wouldn’t have to sit through that lecture.

“Finish your drink. The Revenant is set down out in the lava flats. We’ll take my swoop and get you patched up,” Lind said. 

***

There was a bench in Lind’s quarters opposite the forge. Din sat there in just his flight suit and helmet, watching as they inspected and fussed over his armor. Once the actual metal pieces were all properly patched and reinforced, Lind sat down beside him with a bottle of plastoid solvent. They applied it along the crack and held the sides together as it dried.

“This should hold it, but it will never be as strong as it was. If you get the chance, replace it. If you can’t, try to avoid taking any big hits to it,” Lind instructed.

“Thank you. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to repay you?”

“We’ve been over this. I don’t charge my vode.”

“You do good work, Lind.” 

Lind felt a little rush of giddiness over Din’s words. It felt good to be appreciated for their work. Praise and gratitude were not commonly doled out in their clan. Sasch claimed they must hold themselves to a higher standard and not become complacent. Grandmother called it unbecoming to seek thanks for the performance of your duties. Reward would come when it was earned.

Lind was beginning to think that time might never come. They’d long since left both childhood and apprenticeship, but it felt as if they reverted to those stages when they returned to the covert. It made them wonder if that confident, accomplished Lind out on the Revenant with Tippi was anything more than a wishful construct. It often felt as if Lind could prove their worth to their clan over and over and it would never be enough. Lind took that as a sign they were not ready for that final approval. They’d just have to keep trying.

“It’s not much, but I do what I can.”

“Not much? You serviced my entire kit. I’d hate to see what you consider a lot.”

“Hey, Mando,” Tippi popped her head out of a vent near the ceiling above Din. ”You want one? Made them myself.” She reached a little paw down and Din gently plucked a piece of candy from her claws.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Hey, why doesn’t his have a bug in it?” Lind asked.

“Because he is a polite young man and you need more protein.”

“You’re mean, Tippi.”

“I do this because I care, Lind. I want you to grow up big and strong so you can bully the other kids on the playground.”

“I don’t want to bully the other kids.”

“Sure you do!”

“Sure I don’t,” Lind nabbed a small screw from their workbench and tossed it at Tippi. It bounced harmlessly off the wall a few feet from her head. “Get back in your vent.”

Tippi’s cackle echoed as she retreated back into the darkness.

“Bully!” she called. 

Din was inspecting the candy he held in his palm.

“What is this?”

“I pick up sugar for her and she uses a blowtorch to melt it into a mold. She gives them out to people she likes. It’s a compliment.”

“That’s… nice?” 

“By Tippi’s standards it is.”

“Does she really give you ones with bugs in it?”

“Yep.”

“And you really…?”

“Like she said, I need the protein.”

“Are you sure you’re friends?”

“She’s like her candies. A little bit of warmth and she turns to goo. She’s even sweet at times.”

“That’s a serious accusation, Lind!” Tippi yelled from somewhere deep in the ship’s guts.

“Good hearing,” Din commented.

“Good everything. Did you know chadra-fan can smell your emotions?”

“Emotions have smells?”

“Sort of. It’s something to do with hormone levels. She can smell the different kinds and if she knows you well enough, she’ll start sorting out which ones go with which emotion. She’s more accurate with stronger, simpler emotions. Dead useful.”

“I’ll bet.”

“It’s definitely gotten us out of trouble a few times.”

“Speaking of trouble,” Din said. “I heard a rumor the Slave I was spotted in the system.”

“Fett’s ship?” Din nodded solemnly. “Did that rumor say what he’s doing here?”

“Just that he’s on a job.”

“Isn’t he always?”

“From the way they talk about him at the cantina in town, you’d think he wasn’t a mortal being. Have you met him?”

“No,” Lind shook their helmet. “My predecessor did. He picked a fight with her on Nal Hutta. That was maybe ten standard years ago though. She said he was pretty drunk at the time. She’s still mad about it. Says it wasn’t a fair win for her because one of his partners stunned him and dragged him out before she could make her finishing blow.”

“He had a partner? Thought he worked alone.”

“He does now. I would too if my partners kept shooting me. Really makes you wonder doesn’t it?”

“Wonder what?”

“What he must be like.”

“From what I’ve heard? Dangerous.”

“I mean, what’s he _like_ , you know? As a person.”

“What’s there to know?”

“What drives a guy like that?”

“Credits, Lind.”

“Do you think he’s lonely? Out there with no clan to watch his back?”

As far as Lind knew, Fett was the last surviving member of his clan. His father, Jango Fett, had been orphaned by a rival faction and then adopted by Journeyman Protector Jaster Mereel. Lind remembered their grandmother viciously celebrating the news of Jango’s death at the start of the Clone Wars. She had been instrumental in the decision to exile him from the Mandalorian way of life and held an intense personal grudge against him even decades after he had fallen in battle. 

Later, when the people of Mandalore got their first glimpse of what lay under the clone troopers’ white helmets, public opinion of Jango Fett somehow got even worse. A million men with his face serving Mandalore’s historical foes like loyal akk dogs was considered Jango’s final crime. Even the pacifists repudiated him. Some even claimed he had never been Mandalorian at all. 

Later still, word reached them about Boba Fett, Jango’s unaltered clone and payment for his betrayal. Sasch had joked that such a child must have a credit chit in place of a soul. No one had gone looking for him. Lind remembered thinking that Boba Fett would be in the same age bracket as them for sparring practice.

Even surrounded by their clan and covert members, Lind had felt lonely as a child. They would often think of Boba Fett, out there with no clan at all, and thought surely it must be worse for him. Lind should be grateful. Their clan may be harsh but they loved and protected Lind. Was there anyone to do that for Boba Fett?

“Lonely?” Din said. “You’re worried that the most ruthless contract killer in the known galaxy is _lonely_?”

“I’m not worried!” Lind defended. “Just… curious.”

“Yeah well, so long as you don’t go chasing that curiosity. He’s not some helpless foundling or a rookie picking fights he can’t win anymore.”

“I wouldn’t do something that stupid.”

“You would.” He punched them in the arm. “You’re trouble, Lind Balazs.”

“Rude and mean. I was going to give you our spare Amban-phase pulse blaster but now I’m having second thoughts.”

Once the solvent on Din’s pauldron dried, they loaded up a hoverseld with the relief supplies and hitched it to the back of Lind’s beat up swoop bike. 

The swoop was old and the weight of a full hoversled and two fully armored Mandalorians slowed it considerably. However, Tippi’s hard work on the engine kept them at a steady pace as they crossed the lava flats back towards the landing field where Din’s ship, the Razor Crest, was docked.

Despite their threat, Lind had Din strap the spare pulse blaster to his back before he mounted the swoop behind them. Can’t ride shotgun without a shotgun. As they rode, Lind could feel him shifting this way and that, scanning the landscape for any potential threats. Suddenly, Lind felt his grip on their waist tighten in alarm.

“Lind, we got a bogey on our tail! Looks like another swoop coming in hot!”

“Maybe Boba Fett heard we were talking smack and-”

“Fierfek! I think that actually _is_ Boba Fett!”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious! Bad jokes are _your_ department!”

There were no public bounty postings for either of them. They’d checked before leaving the Guild’s cantina. Even if there had been, Boba Fett thought he was above the Bounty Hunter Guild’s usual assignments. There was no glory in catching bail jumpers. 

Boba Fett was in a separate league from them, though not due to lack of skill. They purposefully chased smaller bounties for less pay to preserve safety through anonymity for both themselves and their coverts. They didn’t need the captive audience and Imperial interest that a big time hunter like Boba Fett enjoyed. 

That didn’t mean there was nothing to worry about. Fett worked mostly in private commissions. It wasn’t far-fetched that he could have been hired directly to finish the job the Imperials couldn’t with Din’s covert. This could be very bad.

“Maybe he just wants to exchange uj’alayi recipes?”

“Does he look like the baking type to you?”

“Isn’t his whole deal being the best at everything? Imagine him slaving over a hot oven in an apron!”

“Can’t wait for you to ask him what fruit syrup he favors when he _catches_ and _kills_ us!”

“What’s he driving?”

“Well he’s getting awful close so it’s safe to say it’s newer and faster than this piece of junk!”

“Bet his isn’t hitched to a covert’s worth of rations, either. We can’t outrun him and he knows it. This is good!”

“In what galaxy is any of this good?”

“Just be ready.”

“Ready for what? Kriff!” A blaster bolt whizzed past their helmets. 

“A warning shot? Really?l Does he think we didn’t notice he’s trying to drive up our ass?”

“Lind, he’s on top of us!”

Sure enough, Lind spotted the nose of Fett’s swoop pulling up alongside them. Lind stole a glance at Fett. His visor was focused on Din and the Amban-phase pulse blaster strapped to his back.

“Congratulations on your new swoop!” Lind shouted at Din. “Let go!”

“What?” Din’s confusion was overridden by his Mandalorian training. He obeyed the order without hesitation and released his hold on Lind’s waist.

Lind didn’t have time to fill him in. Actions spoke louder than words, especially over the roar of two swoop engines. He’d figure it out. Hopefully.

Lind locked the handlebars, hopped up onto the seat of the swoop, and launched themselves at Fett.

It was hardly an original maneuver but Fett hadn’t been expecting the swoop’s pilot to be the one to go on the offensive. He was unprepared as Lind’s momentum carried them both clean off his bike onto the dusty lava flats. 

Lind heard the air whoosh out of Fett’s lungs as he hit the ground. Real nice of him to pad Lind’s landing. They remained entangled as they rolled a short distance before coming to a halt. 

Lind took the opportunity to make sure Din had figured out the plan. He must have, because the swoop was still flying. The swoop, the supplies, and Din were quickly disappearing over the horizon.

Fett took advantage of Lind’s divided attention and shoved them off his chest. They both staggered to their feet, fists at the ready. Lind wasn’t sure if they could beat him, but they were definitely going to last long enough for Din to get a decent head start. Lind figured if they were going down, there were worse ways than at the hands of Boba Fett. 

They circled each other, occasionally moving to strike or block before pulling out of range again. They were both gauging their enemy. Neither risked reaching for their blasters. Lind was fast but Boba Fett’s quick draw was legendary. Besides, Lind thought, what self respecting Mando would opt for such an anticlimax against a worthy opponent? 

His technique was unrefined but brutal. Lind could recognize the foundational forms taught to every Mandalorian child, but it was buried beneath an eclectic assembly of foreign disciplines and years of improvisation. Lind could see why no Mandalorian had beaten him head on in years. He was difficult to predict. His style was both effective and all his own. What else did he have in store for them? 

Maybe it was foolish, but Lind decided to aim for non-vital areas. His thigh looked like a promising target. His only leg armor was his knee pads. Not even a protective kama. In a single swift motion, Lind drew and whipped their smallest vibroblade at him. It almost hit home, but at the last moment Fett’s lightning fast reflexes caught the handle of the humming blade and flung it right back at Lind. It glanced harmlessly off their left breast plate. A little higher and it would have gone right through their neck. Fett either had terrible aim or had settled on the non lethal approach as well. It would be a shame if they killed each other too quickly. 

Fett’s flight suit was loosely fitted compared to theirs, and Lind suspected all that padding they had felt when they landed on top of him was natural. He wasn’t very tall but he seemed to have the compact musculature of a wrestler. Lind now regretted ignoring the lifting weights so often. They were gathering dust in a corner of the Revenant’s cargo hold. 

As they advanced to close quarters, Lind ran through their options. They would have to rely on speed to end things fast before he overpowered them. He may not have been trying to kill Lind, but Fett was definitely fighting to win. Lind’s other option was to play to what was surely a massive ego. Underestimating your opponent was easier to do with an inflated head like the greatest bounty hunter in the galaxy must have. He may know the basics, but he had clearly never had the benefit of advanced Mandalorian combat drills. Hopefully, Fett believed his own hype.

Lind made a feint that left him a tempting opening in their defense. He did not disappoint. He charged them like a raging bantha and Lind followed his momentum into a controlled fall backwards. 

By the time Lind’s back had hit the ground, they had snagged one of his wrists.They made sure they had adopted a wide stance so Fett landed neatly between their spread legs which immediately wrapped around his waist at the same moment they pinned his wrist against their own hip. _Kalypso would have a field day with this position._

Following the practiced flow of motion, Lind brought their free hand and its opposing leg up to the side of his head and shoved his whole upper body to the side as they swung themselves over and up from beneath into a seated position at his side. His arm was trapped between Lind’s leg and the hand that still gripped his wrist. They grabbed him by his girth belt to keep him still and leaned all their weight forward onto his trapped arm until... _POP_. 

Boba Fett shouted in agony.

A flawless triangle shoulder lock paired with a nice, clean dislocated arm. Even Grandmother wouldn’t have had any comments about that execution. Except maybe that it didn’t end in a literal execution. She really had it in for Fett.

They released him, kicked his rifle out of reach, and retreated to a safe distance. 

Seeing him struggle to get to his knees gave Lind a rush of pride. They’d taken down Boba Fett! Maybe it went to their helmet just a little.

“Well, _that_ was fun. Maybe you can come over to my swoop to play next time.”

“Word of advice,” he huffed. His dislocated arm hung limply at his side. “Kill me now. This isn’t gonna stop me. The client won’t pay you and your partner my rate. It won’t be worth it when I come after you two.” 

So he’d assumed they were rivals for whatever bounty he was after. Din had never been the target. Lind now felt much less guilty about indulging their curiosity about Fett. He was… Lind couldn’t help a little snicker they hoped wasn’t audible... _Disarmed_. When would they ever have a chance like this again? 

“What makes you think you could find us?”

“I’m the greatest bounty hunter in the galaxy. I always find my man.”

“Isn’t that nice for you. Can I offer _you_ a suggestion now? If you’d just minded your own damn business your shoulder would still be in its socket. I can’t begin to describe to you exactly how much I do not care about your job or your overinflated rates. We’re not out to steal your precious credits. Relax.”

His helmet jerked back in a startled motion. He must not have accounted for this scenario. Indifference was an unfamiliar opponent, apparently.

“Who are you?” he asked. So he was curious about Lind, too. They felt sort of flattered if they were being honest. They hadn’t thought he would care once he realized they weren’t an immediate threat to his bottom line.

“I’m Clan Balazs.”

“Last Balazs I met rearranged my face.”

“Which Balazs was that?” As if it could be anyone other than...

“Some old rathtar with a big hammer.” Yep. That was Grandmother, alright.

“I’m the nice one in the family, cross my heart.” Lind drew an x with their finger over their central chest diamond with all the solemnity of a giggling youngling promising not to let anyone know their buir had given them a bit of uj’alayi before dinner. 

Fett turned his helmet pointedly to his limp arm, and then slowly turned his visor back to Lind with an accusatory stare. _Seriously?_ he seemed to say. They decided to lean into the childishness of it all. 

“I’m Lind. What’s _your_ name?” Fett’s helmet tilted downwards in a common Mando approximation of a frown.

“Don’t be cute,” he growled. 

What a grouch. Maybe goading someone like Fett was a bad idea, but Lind couldn’t resist. He was so uptight. Definitely an easier target than Tippi who never took anything Lind said seriously, or Sasch who knew all Lind’s childhood embarrassments. It was nice to be the one on top for once.

“You think I’m cute?” It was their best approximation of Kalypso. 

“Starting to see why your partner was so fast to leave you behind.” Jerk.

“He wasn’t right for me anyway. I’m all _yours_ now.” He made a frustrated kind of grunt.

“I work alone.”

“Goodness, was that a genuine classic Boba Fett one liner? Everyone back home will be so jealous.”

“You know the key to a good one liner?”

“Lay it on me.”

“Same principles as sniping. Be sparing and wait for the moment. Good impact is perfect timing. Otherwise, you run the risk of being an _obnoxious, quippy loudmouth_.”

Maybe it was time to lay off before they pushed him too far and found out exactly what he was capable of, even with a dislocated arm. If rumor was to be believed; a whole bunch, and none of it good for Lind’s health.

“I know you’re being an ass on purpose, but that’s actually not bad advice. Thanks.” They seemed to have reached an impasse. They stared at each other. “Sorry for dislocating your arm.” As far as peace offerings went, Lind thought that was pretty decent. He sat back on his heels and cradled his bad arm against his chest. 

“Occupational hazard.” He sounded like he was in a good deal of pain. Lind was starting to feel a hint of guilt. They took a step towards him, palms out in a sign of non-aggression.

“Please, let me-” He drew away from them.

“You’ve done enough. I can do it myself.” He grabbed his own wrist and pulled his injured arm out in front of him. He popped it back into place with practiced efficiency. Lind winced in sympathy. It might have hurt less if he’d let them help.

“Would you at least let me give you something for the pain? Here,” they pulled a capsule from their belt. “It’s my sister’s recipe. We had a hell of a time sourcing the herbs from Keldabe.” He stared at them without saying anything. Lind held it out for him like they were beckoning a shy tooka with a treat. “C’mon. Take it.”

“No.”

“Don’t be difficult, Fett.”

“You’re the first Mando I’ve met who has tried to kill me by poison. Very non-traditional. Points for originality.”

“It’s only poison if you don’t take the proper dosage.”

“Still no.”

“Fine. Be that way. At least let me help you get that arm in a sling. Your cape there should do the trick… hey, wait a minute. Is that a _swaddling blanket_?”

“Leave it.

“It is! I had one just like it. Was it yours?” Lind’s voice took on a teasing edge. “Is this your childhood security blanket?”

“It’s just fabric. It’s practical.”

“Sure, sure. C’mere and let me use it for its intended ‘practical’ purpose, you stubborn infant.”

Lind fashioned the ‘cape’ into a makeshift sling. He had cut a hole in the center so it could serve as a poncho. The edges of the opening were badly frayed. 

They were so close that Lind couldn’t help but note all the other parts of Fett’s kit that could use a little tender care. _Lots_ of parts. Forget tender, he needed an aggressive overhaul. Fett’s armor was much higher quality than Din’s, but had more dings and chips by far. There were no cracks in the durasteel but Lind spotted multiple weak points that looked like they were one good hit away from snapping. 

The worst offender was his helmet. Considering it was the only beskar item, that was truly alarming. A lot of the damage looked like it had been sustained long before whatever job he was currently working on. How had he allowed this much damage to accumulate? The only evidence of mending Lind could identify looked like slapdash patch jobs by someone who only had a rough idea of armor smithing.

“Fett, the state of your armor is disgraceful. I can’t believe you go out in public like this.”

“It’s recognizable.”

“It’s structurally unsound!” Fett ducked away as Lind probed at the dent in his helmet. “Did you sleep through the lessons on proper maintenance and safety standards for your kit? Who is your armorer? I’d report both them and you for gross neglect if I could.”

“Leave it!” He snapped, dancing to the side as Lind tried to inspect the underside of a shoulder bell. “How am I supposed to have a Mando armorer if I don’t belong to any of the clans?” 

Lind’s hand withdrew. Now they felt like the ass. Those amateurish repair attempts must have been his own. The armor was a Mandalorian’s second skin. He didn’t have anyone he could trust to care for it or for him.

“Forgive me, vod. I didn’t think. That was insensitive.” Apparently, pity was MUCH worse than the grabbing.

“I’m _not_ your vod,” he hissed. 

“Of course you are. Did you know the Fett family farm bordered on Balazs land? Our ancestors fought side by side more often than not.”

The Fetts had been neither numerous nor influential. They paid tribute to the much larger Clan Balazs in return for protection both physical and political.The bad blood between Jango and Grandmother had been a recent development in the clans’ long history on Concord Dawn. 

Lind wondered if their swaddling blankets may have shared the same dye bath. If not for the course of history, they might have played together as children in the open fields and dense forests Lind barely remembered. 

“That’s ancient history. Those people are dead and so is that land.”

He was right about the land. The Fett family farm had been burned to the ground long before he was born, and the rest of Concord Dawn was being mined into an empty husk by the Imperial occupation. Lind wondered how much Jango had taught him about the Way of the Mandalore before he died.

“They live on in us. We are the product of their actions, vod.”

“Fierfek, you’re not one of those religious types, are you?” 

He was referring to the ancient Mandalorian religious concept of the manda. A singular cosmic soul which all who upheld the creed would join upon death. To be declared dar’manda, someone who had been separated from the people and its values, was a fate worse than death. Jango had been named dar’manda, and many felt that extended to his clones. All of them. Not many people believed in it as a literal concept these days, but being considered dar’manda was still deeply shameful. It was a big reason so many Mandalorians hated Boba Fett for being their most well known representative in the galaxy. 

“I am a bit skeptical that Arasuum the sloth god is causing the heat death of the universe, but I find much of the philosophy sound.”

“An academic then,” Fett scoffed. “Even better.” 

“Look, whatever you think of me and the sloth god, you have to agree on a practical level that the armor is your life and livelihood. It needs proper care. Getting taken out by your own faulty equipment would be an incredibly embarrassing end for the galaxy’s most _overrated_ bounty hunter.” Maybe that had been a little mean. But it’s not like he was being nice either.

“Just because you’re a snob doesn’t mean I don’t take care of my equipment. What do you even know about it anyway? You just take yours home and your fancy armorer fixes it up real nice. Mine would be shiny too if i-”

“You’re wrong. I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Take it back home. I do my own work. And I can tell you the exact angle and class of blaster necessary to crack that helmet like a jawa with a mudhorn egg.” 

“You’re an armorer?” 

It wasn’t something they should really be advertising. But _someone_ had to do something about that travesty he was wearing. If he was going to be their people’s poster boy, he needed to do the creed justice. 

“I am.”

“And they let you wander around outside the covert?”

“They’re not exactly hurting for armorers. You know what they say, a Balazs is born with a hammer in their hand.”

“That can’t be a real saying.”

“Sure it is. There's a million of them. If you’re not born on an anvil, you’re not a Balazs. Balazs babies aren’t bathed, they’re quenched in cooling oil.”

“Enough. Point taken.” 

“I’m better suited to what I do now. And you’re wrong about something else.”

“And that is?”

“An armorer’s home is their forge, and mine is on my ship, not with the covert. I have several loaner helmets you can borrow while I reinforce that dent since keeping it is _so integral_ to your _brand identity_.”

“I’ll take a pass on the loaner. Don’t really care if you see my face. How much?”

“I don’t charge my vode.”

“ _How much_?”

“You’re impossible and I hope the sloth god catches you. 500 credits for dar'manda scum. Throw in 150 extra and I’ll do something about that paint job too.”

“I do my own paint jobs.” 

“Yeah. I can tell. Regardless, it needs to be sealed. You’re shedding paint chips like a Wookiee in summer. We better do this soon. Considering your sparkling people skills, it won’t be long before someone takes a potshot at you .” They flicked his dent. He swatted their hand away. “Suka suka, Fett.” 

“I need to finish this job first.”

“What admirable work ethic.”

“You won’t be much work to track down later.”

“Why is that?” 

“Because this is where I’m leaving you.” Fett nodded at his crashed speeder. A stabilizer fin was bent, but it seemed otherwise unharmed. It would be a bumpy ride but it would run. “Looks like I’m the only one here with a ride.”

“It’ll be cozy, but I see two seats on there, Fett.”

“You are NOT coming with me.”

“All I’m hearing right now is ‘dislocate the other one, Lind!’ Guess piloting a destabilized swoop with one arm would have been too easy for the great Boba Fett.”

“I work-“

“Alone? Running out of those snappy one liners already? Don’t you worry that little helmet dent. I’m not coming to help you work. We’re just having ourselves a little joyride.”

***

Even with one arm literally tied, Fett took down and delivered his merchandise with few further complications. As they pulled the swoop up in front of the Revenant, Lind activated their comm unit.

“Tippi, I’m bringing a new friend over,” Lind said.

“Another stray followed you home already?” 

“Yeah. This one isn’t housebroken, if you catch my drift. You’re gonna want to stay in your room with all your toys.”

“Copy that. Wait there. I’ll just be a couple minutes.”

“Sorry,” Lind said to Fett. “She’s shy.” Fett just grunted.

They stood in awkward silence for a few more minutes before the doors opened and the ramp descended.

Fett stared at the disaster that was the Revenant’s cargo hold. He nudged a piece of loose trash with a spiked boot tip.

“You live like this?” he asked with unrestrained disgust.

“Boba Fett???” A voice echoed from the walls. “Your new friend is _Boba Fett??_ ” Tippi’s voice was being projected from strategically placed amps all over the ship.

Fett’s helmet was turning this way and that, scanning for a telltale heat signature. Lind knew he wasn’t going to find one. Pinpointing her actual location was nearly impossible when Tippi had her inspection gear running. It worked on the same signal camouflaging principle as the Revenant’s anti-scope system. 

“What the hell is that?” He demanded.

“Oooooh it’s a haunted ship!! Spoookyyy-ow!” Fett’s head whipped toward where he’d heard Tippi bump her head into a duct’s low ceiling. The vent panel she was hiding behind visibly shook from the impact. She must be really nervous to have given away her position like that.

“Balazs, I think your ship has a pest problem.”

“It does now that you’re here!” Tippi called. 

“C’mon, the forge is this way,” Lind beckoned. They began ascending the access ladder with Fett following carefully behind them.

“Your ghost has a point. Letting me in here wasn’t your smartest move. Not that you’ve made too many of those today.”

“How do you figure?”

“I’d think you’d be a little more worried about that Imperial finder’s fee for you and your covert. You haven’t been very subtle about not working alone.”

“Sure, you could turn us in. But do you really think you’re gonna find someone else with my specific skills willing to do business? What I can do for you will save you enough credits and trouble to outweigh that finder’s fee several times over.”

“You Mandos aren’t the only armor-makers in the galaxy, Balazs.”

“True enough, but there’s a significant difference between properly handled beskar and beskar worked by non-Mando methods. It’s still incredibly valuable and versatile, but it just isn’t going to reach its full potential. I heard you like having the best.”

“Fair. So what are you getting out of this?”

“I don’t have to worry about beating you down every time we run into each other. Not that I didn’t have fun but you’re kind of a handful.”

“ _Kind of a handful_? I think I’ll add that to my resume.”

“Was that a joke?” 

“Just because I’m not constantly auditioning for amateur comedy night at the cantina doesn’t mean I’m not funny.”

“If you were funny they wouldn’t have to ask if that was a joke, Fett,” Tippi called.

“Balazs, you better be as good as you say you are. I can hear where your little friend is every time she scuttles around in there. I could take the shot as well at my best as I can blind with my hand tied down. Wouldn’t even need to be paid to do it. Consider it a community service.”

“Get a load of that upstanding citizen!” Tippi hollered back.

“The forge is through here,” Lind sighed, waving Fett through the entrance to their quarters.

He stood still inside the doorway, taking stock of the forge. Lind reached around him for the lighting panel and brought it all the way to one hundred percent. They knew he must have been using a low light vision mode and the sudden brightness would overload his helmet’s system. 

“Fierfek!” he cursed as he was momentarily blinded. His good hand fumbled for his blaster that was holstered on his opposite hip.

“That’s what you get for being rude,” Lind said as they pushed past him into the room.

“You’re a real piece of work.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Fett. Now hand over the bucket and have a seat in the waiting area.” They held one hand out for his helmet and pointed to the bench with the other. He looked between the bench and Lind, as if weighing his options one last time. “The faster you take it off, the sooner you get to leave,” Lind reminded him. 

He slowly lifted the helmet off his head. Lind knew he couldn’t have been much more than thirty standard years, but his face was already showing deep set frown lines. 

It was scarred in several places, and Lind suspected the rest of his body likely followed the same trend. The most prominent scar interrupted his hairline right about where the dent in his helmet sat. He looked every inch the stoic warrior, and seemed to have a permanently sardonic expression on his face. Lind thought he might have been handsome if they hadn’t known about his unpleasant personality. 

Fett sat stiffly on the bench, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He quirked an eyebrow. 

“Keep staring and I’m gonna have to start charging.”

“Sorry,” Lind said. “It’s just strange seeing another Mando without the helmet.” He grunted and rolled his eyes. Lind elected to ignore him and began bringing the forge to working temperature.

Lind made themselves busy inspecting Fett’s helmet to determine how best to make the repair. Fett spoke up.

“That beskar?” he asked.

“You don’t know what your own helmet is made from?” Lind looked back up at him.

He nodded to the pile of armor plates on Lind’s workbench. “I meant those.”

“Oh. Yes. I melt it down and reforge it to keep in practice.” Boba grunted again and they lapsed back into silence.

“Your armor,” he said. “That’s beskar too?”

“Look, I’m kind of busy here. Could you save the interrogation for later?”

“So it’s fine for you to mouth off but not me?”

“I heard you were the strong silent type. Really calls into question the validity of your reputation.” His grunt sounded angrier this time, but he remained otherwise silent. 

Lind inspected the interior of the helmet. They spotted a familiar seal stamped into the beskar near the rear vent. Fett’s helmet had been forged by Lind’s grandmother. She must have made this for Jaster Mereel, Jango Fett’s adoptive father, when Jango came of age. Boba Fett had repainted it and made it his own. 

“How did you dent this?” Lind asked.

“I didn’t. Blaster duel.”

“What did the guy do, shoot you point blank?”

“More or less.”

“He got you good. I assume you must have got him better.”

“You assume right. Since we’re asking questions again, I think it’s my turn.”

“Fine. Just one, and then I have to get to work.”

“Why did you paint over your beskar?”

It was a fair question. Traditionally, a full beskar kit had either no paint or simple color accents. The ever increasing scarcity of beskar made a full set of beskar armor the ultimate Mandalorian status symbol and you wanted people to see it.

“I like the color. Besides, bare beskar is too flashy for my tastes. I don’t need that kind of attention. Unlike some people...” 

Lind gave Fett a look whose meaning was obvious even through the helmet.

“Would you just get on with it?” Fett growled. Lind thought his complexion looked a little more ruddy all of a sudden.

Fett didn’t stick around for long after they returned his helmet with its freshly reinforced but intact dent. He engaged a remote summons for his ship, which was currently in orbit above the planet. While they waited for it to arrive, Lind provided him with his own secure channel to contact the Revenant for his next appointment. Lind recommended they take a look at his breast plates next. Fett informed Lind he had a bar of beskar ore saved in a bank vault on Scipio. He estimated it should be enough for a pair of new shoulder bells. 

Lind watched the Slave I disappear into the atmosphere. They hoped he would find the medicine capsule they had slipped into one of his leather pouches before he no longer needed it. 

“Coast is clear, Tippi.”

Tippi dropped down on Lind’s shoulders from a vent high up on the wall. She hugged Lind’s helmet tightly.

“Oh Lind, what were you thinking?” Her mood was far more subdued than her previous bravado had let on. “He’s _dangerous_.”

“Yeah, he is. There was no avoiding it. We’re on his radar. He’s gonna be keeping an eye on us from now on, but at least this way we have some control over what he sees. Better to keep him happy.”

“I don’t think he’s ever happy. Lind, I hate that you let him in here.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Tippi. I know you need the Revenant to be a safe place, but I didn’t have much choice. He’s not the kind to leave well enough alone if there’s credits to be had. I had to offer him something more valuable”

“It’s not the Revenant or me I’m worried about. I trust you, Lind. But _him_? He’d sell his own mother out in heartbeats.”

“He’s a clone. He doesn’t have a mother.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re trying to be funny.”

“Look, I trust him to serve his own interests. I’m worth more to him free than rotting in an Imperial detention center. And if it comes down it, I can take him in a fair fight.”

“What about an unfair fight?”

“That’s why I have you. You were watching him like a shriek-hawk with a nuna. I’m sure you’ve already got a couple dirty tricks with his name on them filed away. In the meantime, he may be getting a ‘don’t turn us in’ discount but we’re still bringing in some money doing work for him. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“It’ll be kind of nice...having another Mandalorian around.”

“Is he even a proper Mandalorian?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“What if I ask you?”

“I think he might want to be. He should be. He’s just a little lost.”

“Holo-projecting, much?”

“Maybe a little. His credits still spend just fine.”

“He has a terrible personality and is a wildly unlikeable person in general.”

“What a coincidence. Those are the things I like about you, too.”

“Kriff off. I’m going back in the wall.”

_Meme courtesy of[Cookiejuice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookiejuice)!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Hard Life by Eddie Money  
> Mercy Street Peter Gabriel  
> Drumming Song by Florence and the Machine  
> Allies or Enemies by The Crane Wives  
> Clear the Area by Imogen Heap  
> Headlock by Imogen Heap 
> 
> For the curious, a video of Lind's shoulder lock: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kGLUPeN5D1Q 
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE: 
> 
> No matter what he says, Boba had no idea it was a swaddling blanket. It actually was his security blanket from ages 1-2 but he was too young to remember. Jango had it stored in the Slave I after he got too big for it. Hondo briefly held the Slave I while Boba was in jail during the Clone Wars. He recognized it for what it was and figured it might have sentimental value. Then when Boba reclaimed the ship, he mentioned needing a cape/ blanket for purely practical purposes (camping on jobs, protection from the elements). Hondo was like “How about this?” and Boba was like “Yeah this’ll do. Absorbent.” Didn’t get why Hondo laughed so hard. Turned it into a cape/poncho. He is now internally dying of embarrassment during his conversation with Lind.
> 
> Boba, continuing to wear the blanket even after finding out what it's meant for: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZVMDwJ-ZKM


	3. It’s Not a Date

If anyone knew anything about bounty hunters, it was these two facts: Number One was known to be Boba Fett and Dengar was known to be an idiot. 

It was a bit of a mystery how Dengar managed to maintain such a longstanding affiliation with someone like Fett. A popular theory was there must be some retained sentiment for the older hunter from Fett’s rookie years. 

If asked, Boba Fett wouldn’t deign to answer a stupid question. Dengar, on the other hand, probably wouldn’t shut up. He’d be the first to say that his problem wasn’t that he was stupid, he was simply annoying. Fett was annoyed by just about everything anyway, so it cancelled out, didn’t it?

It wasn’t nostalgia that kept Dengar in Fett’s circle, but the fact that Dengar was, in fact, smart. At least smart enough to know better than to try and pull one over on Fett. Smart enough to know that he wouldn’t win, and he had more to gain by being useful than by being competition. 

When Dengar spotted Boba Fett after the same target on Dantooine he simply got up, disassembled his sniper rifle, and tried to remember which cantina had looked cleanest. He was well into his second drink when Fett came to find him.

“Saw you out there,” Fett said in lieu of greeting. Dengar appreciated that about him. No messing around, got right to the meat of the matter.

“I saw you, too, mate. How’d you figure which bar I was at?”

“The sign has a naked Twi’lek on it.”

“Does it?” Fett didn’t respond. “Alright, so I’m predictable. Why don’t you buy me a drink since only one of us got paid tonight?”

Dengar was a little surprised that Fett actually took the invitation and sat down in the booth across from him. Fett had never been one for socializing. Dengar signalled the pretty waitress over to take thier order. Dengar asked for the most expensive drink the bartender knew how to make. Wasn’t his credits being spent.

Fett had been ordering the same drink for almost the entire time Dengar had known him; a Sarlacc Kicker. It was an invention of Chalmun's Cantina at the Mos Eisley spaceport. It was their most luxurious beverage, consisting of three common and widely available ingredients. Boba Fett liked to keep things simple. The most he’d ever spiced it up was the occasional slice of shuura on the rim at nicer establishments.

“That bounty was pretty small time for you, wasn’t it? Business bad or something?” Dengar asked as the waitress left them. 

“Business is fine. Had a lull between jobs.” He shrugged. “Got bored.”

“Buddy, you need to get a hobby. Your boredom is bad for _my_ business.” Fett just shrugged again. “I’d say Sabacc, but you never were a betting man even if you had the bank account and the face for it. You seen any of the old Krayt’s Claw crew?”

When Fett had debuted as a hunter at the tender age of thirteen, he had gathered up a team of more seasoned hunters to form a syndicate. It had been a smart move. Jango Fett had taught him well, but he was still pretty green. The team dynamic gave him the chance to wise up and really learn the ropes. And learn he did. He was going off on his own jobs by the time he was fifteen, though Krayt’s Claw held together a few more years after that. 

“I’ve run into Bossk and Embo a few times. Heard Latts formed her own syndicate. Aurra’s dead.”

“Bet you’re real broken up over that, huh?” Dengar knew Fett and Aurra Sing had had a complicated relationship. She’d picked him up right after his father’s death and hadn’t exactly been the most doting caregiver. “It was kind of nice, wasn’t it? Having a team to watch your back?”

Fett scoffed.

“That team liked to sit on my back more than watch it.” Dengar would have liked to argue but Fett was a quicker draw and also had a good point. Fett had been a better hunter than most of them by the time he was sixteen. Still kinda stung, though.

“You just never got over that job on Quarzite with Ventress. You remember? Where she trussed you up all nice and pretty to be Otua Blank’s replacement bride!” Dengar guffawed. “Boy, the look on your face when I showed up to interrupt the wedding, and then…” 

Fett was staring him down. Even with the helmet on, Dengar could feel the intensity of the look. He decided the memory maybe wasn’t worth revisiting after all.

The waitress returned and set their drinks in front of them. Fett’s drink had a slice of meiloorun on the rim. 

“I didn’t order that,” he told the waitress. 

“It’s a gift from the lady in blue at the bar,” she said before turning and leaving. 

Dengar turned in his seat. The woman looked near human, but she had an odd ear shape and blue hair nearly the same shade as her tight dress. Her cocktail had a matching wedge of meiloorun. She lifted it and toasted Fett with a dazzling smile. Dengar gave a low whistle and turned back to Fett.

“Nice catch, mate. You actually gonna talk to this one?” 

“She’s headed this way so I don’t think I’m getting much choice.”

“What a rough life,” Dengar snickered. He really had to give this lady credit. It took a certain amount of fearlessness to hit on Boba Fett. 

“Hey, handsome,” She was really taking a chance with that one. Dengar doubted she had any idea what Fett looked like under the helmet. Dengar himself wasn’t sure at this point. Maybe she was going to ask him to leave it on. Wouldn’t be the first one to ask that. He snickered again, but she kept right on smiling at Fett’s visor like she couldn’t hear him. “You busy tonight?” 

She placed a knee on the edge of Fett’s bench and leaned towards him. She traced the blinking read out on one of Fett’s breast plates with a delicate finger. He must have a nice view from that angle.

“Maybe another time,” Fett said. As if he was coming back to this mudhole anytime soon if he could help it. He turned back towards Dengar in a clear dismissal. The woman’s face dropped into a pout that, in Dengar’s expert opinion, looked like she’d practiced in the fresher mirror to optimize her big eyes and full lips.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” she said in a whine that sounded less like she was upset and more like… well. “I thought you Mandos liked it a little spicy.” Dengar wasn’t sure about spicy but she sure was saucy.

Fett turned back to her. He reached up and chucked her beneath the chin like she was a purring tooka. It was Fett’s favorite move. Somehow, it never had that melting effect when Dengar tried it. He actually got bitten a couple times.

“How about this,” Fett said in a low voice. “You go back over there, finish your drink and see if I come find you.” She giggled and finally left Fett be. She kept glancing over her shoulder to be sure he was watching her go. 

“You actually gonna follow through on this one, mate?” Dengar asked, already knowing the answer. “She’s gutsy. I kinda like her.”

“She’s not my type,” Fett said as he gingerly removed the meiloorun from his drink and set it aside. 

“I know you love being the center of attention,” Dengar said. “But leading her on like that is pretty heartless.” Fett shrugged. 

“You could always go take a swing at her. Maybe she won’t mind the galaxy’s ugliest consolation prize.”

“I married Manaroo,” announced Dengar abruptly and without fanfare. Fett was quiet for a moment, like he was thinking carefully about what he was going to say.

“Congratulations. Didn't take you for the type.”

“Yeah me neither. But she’s… special. Latts got married, too. Nice girl, helps her run the operation. When it’s the right person it just works.” Dengar fiddled with his glass. “I’m thinking about retiring. Settling down somewhere quiet with Manaroo. Starting that herb garden I always joked about.”

“You’ve been saying you’re going to retire for years. Never gonna happen.”

“Maybe when it was just me, but Manaroo has been handling the credits. We’ve got a nice nest egg saved up. I’m not taking as many jobs as I used to. Don’t need to. Maybe you should go on over there and see about Miss Blue. You never know. They say blue is a lucky color.” And how. He thought about Manaroo’s beautiful navy skin. 

“Like I said, she’s not my type.”

“Aw Fett, you’ve been saying that forever. You never used to have problems pulling at the cantina when we’d go for drinks to celebrate a successful job.” 

Fett really used to get around. He had a couple wild years when he was about twenty standard. There’d even been one pretty hunter in particular he’d had a real soft spot for. They’d had some kind of falling out over a job and the other hunter had walked away with the payday. 

The guy had been alright but there was no way he won that fight unless Fett let him. He really put his foot in it when he started talking himself up at Fett’s expense. An example had to be made. Fett had closed up shop on romance not long after. Over a decade, and he’d never seen Fett do more than flirt. 

“I’ve got a higher standard than I did then.”

“Fett, you ever think those standards of yours are a bit too high?”

Dengar didn’t know exactly what Fett was hanging onto or why, but it had something to do with that other hunter from years ago. They hadn’t even really been seeing each other. He couldn’t understand why Fett didn’t just move on. Dengar wasn’t going to outright accuse Fett of cowardice but that sure was the shape he saw the situation taking. 

Fett stood up.

“Been nice catching up, but I’ve got somewhere to be.”

He left his drink on the table, untouched, with the crushed slice of meiloorun beside it.

***

Lind listened as the airlocks finished their docking sequence. The Slave I’s atmospheric seals were a little more delayed than the Revenant’s, which Tippi liked to rub in Fett’s visor as proof that she had the superior ship. She still hated his guts, but she’d relaxed about his presence. At some point, Fett’s visits had stopped feeling foreboding and became routine. 

Lind was a little surprised by the frequency of his visits. He had an impressive backlog of work. During his last visit he had asked if they did anything with blasters. One of his spares had a sticky safety and oil didn’t seem to solve it. They’d promised to take a look.

The Revenant’s blast doors whooshed open. The Slave I’s followed slightly after, revealing Fett leaning on his forearm against the hatch’s frame. He gave his usual nod of greeting.

“Balazs.”

“Fett. It’s been so long I almost forgot how ugly that helmet was.”

“Watch the lip.” He spun what must have been the offending blaster in a lazy circle around his trigger finger. He held it out to them, grip first. “This thing is stuck on kill.”

Lind accepted it from him as he passed through the airlocks into the Revenant. They held it up and flicked the safety. Sure enough, it immediately flipped back to kill setting.

“I’m guessing an internal spring is bent.”

“Already disassembled and checked that.”

“Hm. C’mon.” They waved him toward the forge. They took apart the blaster’s components and carefully inspected and cleaned each one. It didn’t really need the cleaning. Fett had been thorough. 

The state of his armor was misleading. Lind had caught glimpses of the interior of the Slave I through the airlock and every surface gleamed. Perfectly clean, not an instrument out of place. Lind wondered what model of cleaning droid he must employ. Probably well out of their price range.

Lind held the casing of the safety up to the overhead light, turning it slowly.

“Ah ha! There’s your culprit. The little latch on the lock mechanism is warped.”

“Can’t be,” Fett said as he took the piece from Lind’s hand. “I checked it.” He took his helmet off and squinted. Lind grabbed his wrist and readjusted his angle. 

“It’s slight but enough. You can see it right there.”

“Kriff. How’d I miss that?”

“It probably happened too gradually for you to notice. It’s only just barely out of position, not even visible except from a few specific angles.”

“Piece of junk.” He glared at it like it had done this to antagonize him on purpose.

“It happens. Solid blaster otherwise. Go hang out on the bench. I need to focus. It’s a small fix but it’s fiddly to reach and I don’t want to accidentally warp anything else getting it back in position.”

Fett obeyed without argument for once. He set is helmet on the deck before laying on his back across the entirety of the bench, feet flat against the floor. They sat in silence as Lind worked. When they finally placed the solder stick back in its cradle, he spoke up.

“Where’d you get this thing?” he asked, tapping one of the bench’s legs with his heel. “It’s got no right being this comfortable.”

“I felt bad making people sit on the floor so I scrounged up some spare durasteel at a junk shop in Mos Espa.”

“You made this?” Lind hummed in assent, too focused on examining their work for real words. “Wish I had space for something like it on the Slave I.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Maybe I should just move in.”

“Uh huh.”

“Little crowded with you here.”

“Mm.”

“Could just space you.”

“Sure sure.”

“You’re not listening to me at all, are you?”

“You’re gonna murder me and take my ship over a bench.”

If Lind had looked up they would have seen the corner of his lips lift in a nearly imperceptible smile.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“How’d you get in here then?” 

The smile got a little bigger. Lind still didn’t see it.

“You got a real smart mouth, Balazs.”

“It matches my damn fool personality. We’re almost done here. Just needs to cool.” Lind set the piece down on the workbench and came to stand beside Fett. They gave his ankle a playful kick. “Scoot over.”

“Don’t think so.”

“I made that bench with my own hands and now I’d like to sit on it with my own ass.”

“Well _my_ ass ain’t moving.”

“Fine. I’ll just sit on you instead.”

“This is how you treat an honored guest?”

“Honored guest? You’re practically blackmailing me.”

“Paying customer, then.”

“You’re not paying enough for me to stand for this. Literally.”

“Your jokes are awful.”

“No joke. Let the record show, I warned you.”

Fett propped himself up on his elbows to better look at Lind.

“You’re serious?”

“To sit on you? There’s precedent. It’s how I made your acquaintance, isn’t it?” They leaned over and patted his abdominal plate. Fett gave his signature Frown n’ Grunt before sitting up and sliding himself to the far edge of the bench to make room.

Lind didn’t sit. Something had caught their eye. They braced one knee on the bench and leaned over Fett. His eyes widened and he pressed his back to the wall in a vain attempt to maintain his distance.

“What-”

“Would you relax? You already know what it looks like when I’m attacking you.” They reached out and tapped a finger on his breast plate’s readout. He went very still. “Did you know your readout has a stutter?” They asked him. He looked down.

“Oh. Yeah. Loose wire. Was gonna get around to it…”

“Well the solder stick is still hot so I might as well get it done now. Tippi’s better with this sort of stuff, but I can handle a loose wire.”

“Tippi? That’s your partner, right?”

“You’ve been here how many times and you still don’t know her name?”

Fett shrugged and began unfastening the breast plate.

“Didn’t seem relevant.”

“This is her ship. How is she not relevant?” 

Fett shrugged again and handed them the plate. They brought it to the table and, as promised, it was finished quickly. They returned to the bench and actually sat down this time. They turned the plate over in their hands before handing it back to him.

“Why did you pick these colors?” they asked him.

“They looked good.” He was avoiding Lind’s gaze.

“Did you know that the colors Mandalorians paint their armor had meanings once?”

“No,” he was quick to say. Maybe too quick. Lind reached down and picked up his helmet. They pointed to each color in turn.

“Green for duty. Yellow for remembrance. Red to honor a parent.”

“Just what I had on hand.” Strange then that he had chosen to repaint it the same way over and over. Lind could see the layers where the paint had chipped. He must have replaced the original red paint with a duller version. The layers peeking out from beneath were more vibrant. Must be his brand identity thing. “Why’d you choose your colors?” he asked.

“Blue for reliability. Gold for vengeance.”

“Reliable sounds about right. You don’t seem the vengeful type, though.”

“It’s… abstract, I guess. I suppose the vengeance would be the survival of the creed despite our enemies’ best attempts to end it and us. I like the blue better, though. It’s calm.”

“My father had a blue accent on his helmet.” Fett sounded distant, like it wasn’t Lind he was addressing. “Blue is a lucky color.”

“Lucky?” Lind asked. Fett seemed to snap out of his trance. “Never heard that before.”

“Doesn’t mean anything.”

It was Lind’s turn to shrug. Fett made himself busy reattaching his breastplate.

“Fett, would you spar with me?”

“Thought I was a handful?”

“Oh, you are, but I don’t think I’d mind as much if you promise not to kill me.”

“Only if you promise not to dislocate my arm again.”

“So the other one is free game?”

The look Fett gave them was withering.

Now that there was no imminent threat of death or capture, Lind was exhilarated at the prospect of fighting Fett again. Lind hadn’t had a proper sparring match in ages, much less with a partner whose moves they didn’t know by heart. 

They descended into the cargo hold. Fett looked around.

“Don’t tell me you actually cleaned on my account,” he said. He was using the term ‘cleaned’ in the loosest possible way. Lind had shoved everything to the sides of the hold to clear an area at the center.

“Don’t let it go to your head. Speaking of…” They tapped their own helmet. “Get that bucket on.”

Mandalorian duels didn’t stand for any opening ceremony. Manners didn’t exist in a real fight. The moment his helmet was on his head, they lunged at each other.

Lind wasn’t interested in analyzing him this time. They had been craving a fight driven by pure, simple impulse. The outcome didn’t matter, only the action. They had really hit the mark with their initial analysis, though. He was an excellent wrestler, and Lind quickly wound up on the floor in a headlock they couldn’t break free from.

Lind tapped his arm to yield. It took him a moment longer to release them than it should have. He clearly wasn’t used to a fight that didn’t end with at least one party incapacitated.

“Well done, vod!” Lind clapped him on the shoulder.

“Not your vod,” he grumbled as he stood up. Despite the denial, he offered them a hand getting to their feet. Mandalorian sparring courtesy was extended only at the end of a match. “That one doesn’t count. You had at least two chances to end it but you let me get in too close.”

“Are you accusing me of throwing the fight?”

“I’m saying don’t patronize me next time.”

“Just sounding you out. Didn’t get much chance to last time.”

“I agreed to spar, not rough house like kids.”

“Sparring is a learning experience. I just want to see if you’re really as good as they say.”

“Worried your win on Nevarro was a fluke?” he sounded smug.

“Let’s find out for sure.”

They went for seven rounds. Lind was a little out of breath, but if Fett was up for another go so were they. He had more wins but just barely. He had started to pick up on Lind’s style and wasn’t the type to fall for the same trick twice. He capitalized on his superior strength, but Lind’s win on Nevarro hadn’t been a fluke. They were creative, quick on their feet, and had greater reach and flexibility. 

“Hate to interrupt the buckethead playdate,” Tippi’s voice echoed through the hold. “But that blaster has been cold for a while now, and I’m sure we all have places we’d rather be.”

Lind heaved a sigh of disappointment and turned away from Fett to climb back up the ladder. Without warning they were yanked backwards, their arm wrenched behind their back, and a forearm pressed tightly against their windpipe.

“Sloppy, Balazs. First rule of the hunt; never turn your back on the enemy.” Fett’s voice sounded lower than usual. Maybe it was just because he was so close. He released them a heartbeat later.

“Didn’t realize I was still your enemy,” Lind quipped.

“Everyone is my enemy. That’s why I’m number one, Balazs,” he replied, bumping their shoulders together as he passed them and began to climb the ladder.

Lind decided it wasn’t worth mentioning the clear view they had of his unprotected backplate as he ascended.

They double checked the blaster and reassembled it before handing it back to him. They resisted the childish urge to hold it high in the air and make him jump for it. 

As they watched him pass back through the airlocks to the Slave I, Lind thought it looked more like a strut than his usual purposeful stride. His helmet must be feeling a little tight on his fat head. 

Tippi popped out of a vent right as they prepared to engage the blast doors and begin undocking.

“It would be a lot cleaner in here if the rest of the trash took itself out!” she called. Fett started to yell something back but the doors slammed shut in his face. “I can’t believe that laserbrain can’t remember my name,” Tippi griped.

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he remembers my given name either. It’s always ‘Balazs this, Balazs that’.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Lind?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t get too comfortable around him. He’s not your vod.”

“I know that, Tippi. It’s not like he’d ever let me forget anyway.” 

Privately, Lind hoped one day he’d accept the title. They had found that they actually liked Fett. He was shrewd, thoughtful, and had a wry sense of humor. For a man with an ego the size of a small moon, he was surprisingly patient about all the ribbing and terrible jokes Lind submitted him to. In fact, he seemed to get a kick out of returning the favor in kind like they were children passing a meshgeroya ball between them. 

He had a certain kind of self-assured charisma, and his stories about his escapades were so entertaining that Lind didn’t particularly care whether he was embellishing or not. They couldn’t recall ever enjoying the company of another Mando so much, and his visits had become a treat rather than a chore. 

Lind was keenly aware Fett was running out of items to be fixed. They had done work on just about all his armor, most of his arsenal, and even upgraded the weapons systems housed in his gauntlets. He hadn't let them touch his jetpack yet. Apparently he’d had too many run-ins with people looking to tamper with it. Lind just needed to wear him down a little more. But very soon there would be nothing immediate left to repair, and the wait between his visits would be much longer. The idea inspired a surprising degree of disappointment. 

Lind had felt trapped between worlds for most of their life. Growing up, they had never been good enough for their clan. Then they left and found they didn’t belong out in the galaxy either. The Revenant was the only place they felt really wanted.

They had the sense that Boba Fett existed somewhere beside them in that liminal place. He didn’t have the outsider perspective of Tippi but he also wasn’t a full-fledged adherent to the creed like Din. When he boarded the Revenant, it felt like he was occupying more than just the space on Lind’s bench.

It was a little unsettling to consider that he didn’t experience his visits with the same degree of anticipation and intensity that Lind did, but what could they do about it? Nothing. They decided it wasn’t worth dwelling on. There were bigger things afoot in the galaxy.

Sure enough, a bigger thing stepped up a few weeks later. Sasch made contact with a new set of orders for Lind. This time, it wasn’t for more pirjanad.

Vytt Saxon had joined the covert a few years ago. Lind’s sources said he had a cousin, Gar, who had chosen to serve the Empire but had been killed by members of Clan Wren not long before the occupation. 

Lind suspected Vytt was likely as much an opportunistic vulture as his cousin. He certainly delayed joining a covert for a suspicious amount of time. Despite their protest, Grandmother had admitted Saxon to their ranks. Every clan had its rotten meilooruns, but the Saxons were a well established and respected family otherwise.

Vytt Saxon was not raised in a covert and he did not take to the lifestyle. Mandalorians were confrontational as a general rule, but Saxon didn’t seem to know where to draw the line. He had been indirectly responsible for one of the worst Imperial raids the covert had experienced when he baited a squad of stormtroopers in a bid to avenge his fallen vode. He’d been punished but allowed to remain. Grandmother had seen his actions as mere misguided loyalty to his people and creed. Lind had kept their mouth shut, as ordered. Maybe they shouldn’t have. 

Saxon had only ramped up the behavior since. Sasch reported he had grown increasingly vocal in his opinion that Grandmother and her followers were cowards for not facing the Empire head on and demanding justice. Better to go out in a blaze of glory than to wallow in filth and fear. Eventually, he had stopped taking orders altogether and he’d abandoned the covert.

It wouldn’t have been the first time someone had struck out on their own. As long as the prodigals respected the secrecy of the covert there were no problems. Vytt Saxon didn’t see visor to visor with Grandmother on that point either. 

He had served with his cousin under the aruetii Mand’alor, Maul, before the Empire rose. Evidently, he was taking a page from the dar’jetii’s playbook and was seeking to gain control of as many outer rim crime syndicates as possible to build his army. His activity had drawn a lot of attention, and not just Imperial. When the Hutts sent mercenaries after the covert in retaliation they’d lost many good warriors and one of the oldest foundlings. Grandmother said they had all died honorably, but Lind couldn’t help feeling they shouldn’t have died at all.

Lind had taken the final measurements for Rani’s first adult helmet on their last visit. As they melted the unfinished dome into a more easily stored beskar ingot, Lind reflected that they would have gone after Vytt Saxon regardless of Sasch’s orders. For once, Lind’s personal desires aligned with the covert’s. Vytt Saxon’s execution would be both an honor and a pleasure.

Saxon was brash to the point of stupidity, and it was simple to track him to a B’omarr monastery on Danuta. There were hundreds of these abandoned monasteries dotted throughout the outer rim. They were well built and easily defended. Smugglers and other criminal groups loved to squat in them. Most famously, Jabba the Hutt used the one on Tatooine as his palace and base of operations. Despite being essentially free real estate, the monasteries were not a popular destination.

The order of monks that had built them reached what they considered to be “enlightenment” long ago. Their brains still lived, suspended in nutrient filled jars housed in scuttling spider-like droids. They wandered the catacombs beneath the monasteries, and there were rumors that if they caught anyone wandering alone they would attempt a disturbingly physical religious conversion. Those brave enough to explore those subterranean tunnels often said some of those brains looked a little too fresh for comfort.

According to Tippi’s aerial surveys, there was no way for Lind to approach the monastery without being spotted, so they decided on a more direct approach. Saxon had tried to recruit his fellow Mandalorians to his cause before he left. If he thought Lind was there to join up, they could get close enough to end him without starting an unnecessary firefight. Ideally, Lind would have liked to waste as few resources on the bastard as possible. He’d taken enough from them all.

Lind entered the compound with their empty hands raised. Thankfully, that was enough for the men on watch to call an escort to bring Lind to the lounge where Vytt Saxon was waiting for them. He sat on a folding camp chair like the mand’alors of old on the throne in Sundari City.

“Lind Balazs. It’s been too long.” His helmet rested on the table beside him and he had a wide grin on his face.

“Not long enough, Saxon.” He frowned.

“Here I was thinking we were friends. You haven’t come to play nice have you?” 

Lind shouldn’t have let him see their hand so early on, but all they could think of was watching Rani grow from passing a ball with his playmates to passing his trials of adulthood. How Lind had always used the same shady fuel station on Corellia because they sold his favorite sweets. Lind had been unable to find those anywhere else. They wouldn’t be ripped off by that price-gouging gran who ran the counter ever again. Rani would never eat the packet they had stored under their bunk with the other gifts they had picked up for the covert’s children. Playing nice with Saxon had never been an option. 

“We took you in as one of ours and you repaid that brotherhood with betrayal.”

“Those cowards are no brothers of mine! They would have us all starve in a sewer. Tell me how that’s the Way of the Mandalore? We should be standing to fight the enemy like the warriors we were raised to be! “

“The Empire has us outnumbered and outgunned. There is no Way of the Mandalore if we’re all too dead to follow it!”

The hired guns stationed around the room were starting to look nervous. Their blasters were drawn and pointed to the floor, but Lind could see their muzzles quivering, ready to rise and fire at the first sign of real aggression.

“Your granny has you on a nice tight leash, but I see you, Lind Balazs! I can tell you’re not content to cower in the dark either! Join me!”

“Ok sure, let’s be partners. Sounds great. Why don’t you come over here so we can shake on it?”

Lind triggered the spring loaded holster housed in their gauntlet. It took Saxon’s henchman a good two seconds to register the sudden appearance of an active vibroknife and raise their weapons. They didn’t fire, waiting on either Saxon’s order or Lind to make a move. Whichever came first.

“Don’t make me kill you, Balazs,” Saxon said, donning his helmet. “You’re the only one in your family that’s any fun.”

Lind shrugged.

“Well, statistically one of us had to be.”

Lind’s careful calculation of angles to minimize damage to non-beskar covered areas came to an abrupt halt. Things were tense in the lounge, but it seemed practically friendly compared to whatever mayhem was coming towards them down the corridor.

Suddenly, the body of one of the guards was propelled into the lounge by a huge concussive force. Probably a handheld thermal detonator. A figure in Mandalorian armor appeared, backlit in the doorway. For a moment, Lind thought Sasch had sent back up from the covert. Then they recognized the battered green helmet.

Lind groaned. _Boba Fett._

What was he doing here? They really didn’t want a third party mucking things up. At least he seemed to be on Lind’s side of the conflict. _Guess I better start blasting people so he knows that, too._ They didn’t need a repeat performance of Nevarro. Fortunately, the gang were all too stunned by Fett’s dramatic entrance to react until after Lind shot three of them cleanly through their chests.

Fett must have gotten the hint, because they wound up back to jetpack by the time Lind drove their vibroknife through the eye of the last man who somehow figured getting up close to a stabby Mando was a smart strategy.

Saxon was already gone. There were only two entrances to the lounge and the one leading to the front courtyard had been blocked by the fighting. He must have fled further into the complex. For all Lind knew, he’d already found whatever bolt hole he was headed for. There was no time to waste.

Lind leapt over the still twitching body of their victim to give chase. They almost made it to the doorway when something wrapped around their upper body, trapping their arms to their sides. Fett had caught them with his wristmounted whipcord. Lind went down hard and undignified. 

“Fett, you bastard! Cut me loose!”

“Relax. He won’t get far.”

“He’s a threat! He’s the reason Rani is dead!”

“I don’t even know who that is.”

Lind could have stabbed him. They still might once their arms were free.

“If he gets away I swear to every god and cosmic force there is-”

“Swear to whoever you want,” Fett said as he knelt down and started to unwrap the whipcord from Lind’s chest and arms. “Trust me, no prayer was going to save you if you chased after him.”

“You know something. Spill it.”

“You first. Who hired you and for what?”

“I’m here to kill that sleaze and I’m doing it for free.” Fett cocked his helmet to the side.

“This is personal?”

“No. All you need to know is Vytt Saxon needs to be dead as soon as possible.”

“No arguments here,” he nodded. “Crimson Dawn hired me. This Saxon guy has been a real thorn in their side. Poached a couple of their men, nabbed some big weapons shipments. Really sealed the deal when he made off with an E-Web heavy repeating blaster. Wherever he’s holed himself up, I’d bet every credit to my name he’s got it all set up to protect his position. You should be thanking me. You’d have been vaporized the minute you found him.”

Lind had heard about what an E-Webb could do to a person. The Empire had used them to great effect during the Imperial siege of Mandalore. Vaporized would be a best case scenario. They’d been too rash and hadn’t planned this as carefully as they should have.

“Thank you, vod.”

“Not your-”

“Shut up. How do you know he’s digging in and not making a run for it?”

“I know these old monasteries. They’re built to withstand a siege. There’s no way out but how we came in. Speaking of,” Fett jabbed his finger towards the opposite entrance that led to the exit. “It’s time you get going so I can do my job.”

“I’m not leaving until I see Vytt Saxon’s cold dead body.”

“I’m not splitting my payment. He’ll be just as dead if I kill him. Win win.”

“No deal, Fett.”

“You sure this isn’t personal?”

“It’s not. This is… politics, I guess? It doesn’t matter.”

“Sounds needlessly complicated. This is some kind of covert thing?” Lind didn’t answer, but Fett clearly took that as an affirmative. He turned his head to scan the room. “Where’s your team?”

“Just me.” Fett turned his focus back to them.

“You’re kidding. They sent you in here alone with no intel about what you were getting into?”

“I can handle myself just fine.”

“Whatever. I don’t care what you or your little friends do. I just need you to stay out of my way.”

“Look,” Lind said, taking a deep, calming breath. They needed to be more calculating about this. Be a little more Boba Fett and a little less Lind Balazs. They could process grief and rage after Vytt Saxon was a smoking corpse. “I still don’t have any interest in your payment, but we have a better chance of meeting our goals if we help each other.”

“As far as I’m concerned, the only one who needs help is you. If I hadn’t shown up you’d be a blue smudge on a wall somewhere by now. You’re not even being compensated for the personal risk. It’s bad business.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “You should just ditch the covert. They’re holding you back.”

Lind violently shoved him away and stood up. They needed the high ground in the conversation, even if it was only literally. They wanted to deny everything he was saying but… 

Sasch hadn’t involved herself in the planning of the mission beyond delivering the order. That’s how a lot of the covert jobs went. How could Lind ever fault Sasch for not having access to intel when she was tied to the covert base? Intel was Lind’s job, and Sasch trusted them to get it done. This was no one’s fault but their own.

“You don’t know anything about my covert,” Lind hissed. 

Fett held up his hands in a sign of mock surrender.

“If I let you tag along, you promise to stay out of my way?” Lind was grateful he didn’t chase after the previous subject. At least he had enough common decency to not poke such an obvious sore spot.

“I’m planning to do more than tag along this time.” They patted the butt of the rifle slung across their back for emphasis. Fett craned his neck a little to get a better look at it. Lind could tell the minute he recognized the makke and model.

“Is that an Amban-phase pulse blaster?” Fett was clearly trying to play it cool, like he wasn’t staring at the rare disruptor rifle as if it were a naked twi’lek dancer covered only in a sheen of glistening body oil. The degenerate.

“Yes,” Lind replied flatly.

“Been trying to get my hands on one. Empire really cracked down on their distribution. Good for disintegrations.”

“Yes.”

“Mind if I give it a try? Wanna see what the balance is like.”

“No.”

“C’mon. Just for a few minutes. You don’t even have to load the cartridge.” He reached for it like a kid after a shiny new toy, but Lind held it out of his reach.

“From what I’ve heard, you get along just fine with disintegrations on your own. Can you at least pretend to focus? We need a plan. I tell you what I know and you tell me what you know.”

“Saxon only managed to get some of the ammo for that E-Web,” Fett said. “He’s not going to risk wasting it on anything more than a clear target. We should be alright so long as we stay out of his sightline.” Lind nodded.

“Saxon doesn’t like to wait. He’ll want to take us out as quickly as possible.”

“Well he’s got the perfect opportunity just ahead. This place uses the same layout as Jabba’s palace on Tatooine, right down to the catacombs underneath. There’s an audience chamber up ahead right before it all starts branching out. Perfect place for an ambush.” Lind made a derisive noise.

“Jabba. How can you stand working for him? The Hutts are bad but he’s a whole other level of scum and villainy.” Fett shrugged.

“I just have to scrape the scum off the credit chits before I deposit them in my account.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“Unfortunately not. He’s not known for his sanitary habits.”

“Someone needs to salt that slug,” Lind said viciously.

“Balazs, I’m trying real hard to pretend to focus like you asked. Maybe you should take your own advice.” 

“No need, I’ve been multitasking. Give me your helmet for a second. I need to test something…”

***

Vytt stood behind the controls of the E-Web. They’d set it up on the balcony at the far end of the receiving chamber. The location had three major benefits. 

The first was that he could easily keep his eye on the far entrance to see anyone coming after him.There was no alternate route to reach him from that direction

The second benefit was that he had the high ground, and the room was small. The E-Web ould make sure no one made it across alive.

The third benefit was the odd construction of the monastery itself. The chamber was known as a whispering room after one of its unique acoustic properties. There was an antechamber to hold those awaiting an audience with the monastery’s head honchos who would have been on the balcony where Vytt sat now. It was separated from the main chamber by a high wall that didn’t quite reach the domed roof. The privacy provided by the partition was an illusion. Any whispered conversations in the antechamber carried across the domed ceiling to whoever was standing on the balcony. They could hear as well as if they had been standing beside the conspirators. Definitely useful for weeding out potential plots among the peons… or to eavesdrop on a self-righteous Mando and a cheap knock-off. Provided the two were actually working together. Vytt didn’t think old Granny Balazs would ever officially sanction an alliance with the likes of Fett.

It had been a while. Vytt was starting to hope they'd just killed each other. He was about ready to give up his position and go check out the bodies when Fett appeared from the antechamber. Vytt always heard Fett was insane but he must be stupid too. Maybe he just didn’t know what an E-Web could do. Maybe he needed a demonstration. 

He opened fire on Fett who just barely ignited his jetpack in time to get out of range before retreating back behind the antechamber’s solid wall. 

The E-Web could technically decimate that entire wall. Unfortunately, that wall was thick and it would take most of his ammo. He’d lose his edge. Vytt had a better idea anyway. He triggered the charges he had placed over the doorway leading from the antechamber back to the throne room.

The whole structure shook as the charges went off and a cloud of debris and dust billowed into the main audience chamber from the far doorway. Fett’s only exit was now an impassable pile of rubble. He had nowhere to go but into the line of fire. 

“Nice going, di’kut!” Vytt heard Balazs hiss. “Now he’s got us pinned here!” So they really were working together. He wondered if Alor Balazs knew what their pet grandchild was getting up to.

“What did you call me?” Fett hissed right back.

“It means idiot!”

“I know what it means!”

“So stop asking di’kutla questions, di’kut!”

“ _You’re_ the di’kut!” 

“I thought clones got accelerated maturity alongside the aging but guess not!”

“I’m unaltered, and you started this!”

“Do you two children realize I can hear every inane thing being said over there?” Vytt shouted. “It’s like listening to my parents argue.”

“I have a great solution to that problem,” Lind called back. “Why don’t you come over here, I shoot you in the head, and you don’t have to listen to us anymore!”

“I can get behind that plan,” Fett agreed.

If there was one thing that truly united Mandalorians, it was a shared enemy.

“You two make a cute couple. I’ll be sure to dump your corpses in the same ditch. All nice and snuggly.”

“I know we’re trying to kill each other, Saxon, but that’s over the line! I’d like to think I could do better than Boba Fett.”

“Impossible,” Fett scoffed. “There’s no one better than me, Balazs.”

“Really? You couldn’t just let that alone?” they replied.

“I’m the best at more than just hunting bounties.”

“For the love of-” Balazs made a deeply frustrated noise. “Does that line ever actually work?” 

“Hope the mystery keeps you up at night, because I certainly won’t be there to do it.”

“Uh oh, looks like the honeymoon is over already!” Vytt cackled. “Counter offer! You two save me some ammo and kill each other in a fit of passion, how’s that sound?” 

“That’s real tempting!” Fett yelled back. “Give me a minute to mull it over while I strangle Balazs with my bare hands!”

“The real reason you work alone is because no one can stand being around you!” Balazs didn’t sound particularly strangled.

Vytt rolled his eyes. If by some miracle those two survived this, they should probably just find a hotel room and resolve whatever weird tension they clearly had cooking.

“Would you two give it a-”

“Rest in pieces, vod.” 

Balazs’ voice was in stereo. Almost sounded like they were in two places at once. Crouching behind that wall over there and standing right-

Vytt Saxon was well within the standard specs of an Amban-phase pulse blaster. All that was left of him was a pile of clothing, gear, and a handful of ashes that Lind watched disperse on the breeze. His beskar helmet clattering to the ground. 

“Did you get him?” Fett called. Lind cut their vocoder’s signal to the portable amp sitting across the chamber next to Fett. 

“No!” They yelled. “He survived me disintegrating him at point blank range. The hell do you think?” 

Fett appeared from behind the wall and crossed the courtyard towards Lind, amp swinging casually from his hand with each swaggering step. He activated his jetpack and made a controlled jump onto the balcony. Lind thought his landing was a little sloppy.

“What I think is it was my job so I should have been the one to do it. Your one liners still need work.”

“You just want to get your filthy hands on this innocent rifle. I can tell you’re pouting under there. Cut it out. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Just don’t think it’s fair you got to have all the fun.”

“Well, I’m not getting any of the pay so it evens out. Your helmet’s system wasn’t compatible with the amp anyway.”

“You took your sweet time getting through the lower levels. Wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep pretending I cared about whether you’d sleep with me.”

“It’s a maze down there. It wasn’t easy making sure I came back up in the right spot behind him. Had to shoo off like five of those spider droids. They kept trying to rub their brain jars on me.” They shuddered. “And for the record, I stand by what I said. I can do better than you.”

“And I stand by what _I_ said. There is no one better.”

“You can’t tell on account of the helmet, but I’m sticking my tongue out at you.”

“You’re a child.”

“Di’kut.”

A whirring noise came from the doorway to the balcony followed by an alarmed series of beeps. They both turned to find a small custodial mouse droid stopped short on the threshold to the balcony. Vytt Saxon must have brought it along to try to clear up the musty old monastery during his stay.

The little droid’s sensor lights lit up at the sight of its former master’s empty helmet. It beeped angrily and rammed Lind’s foot. Fett started to draw his blaster but Lind reached over and pushed his arm back down.

“Leave it alone! It’s not doing any harm.” The droid beeped angrily up at Lind. “Uh… it was his fault.” They pointed to Fett. The droid turned to him and gave a reprimanding beep before attempting to charge him instead. Lind knelt down and held the droid in place as it spun its wheels fruitlessly. “You’re a spirited little thing. What say you come home with me? I’ve got plenty of mess for you, and a nice little charging station.” 

The mouse droid’s wheels stopped spinning and it made a happy little trilling beep of affirmation. Lind released it and patted what could maybe pass for a head with a lot of imagination. Fett scoffed.

“You’re the type to pick up pathetic little critters for fun, aren’t you?” Lind laughed at him. He sounded like Tippi.

“I picked _you_ up.”

“Hey.” He took a step toward Lind but MS-E beeped shrilly at him and Lind let it ram his foot this time. 

“So good at identifying garbage.” Lind praised, stroking its antenna.

“I doubt that thing is gonna make a dent. Half the junk on that scrap heap you call a ship is bigger than it is.”

“I’m sure it’ll try its best.”

The droid chirruped happily and began driving in quick laps around Lind’s feet.

Fett didn’t bother waiting around. As Lind watched his ship fade away into the atmosphere, they contacted Tippi on the long range comm.

“Mission accomplished.”

“Wow,” Tippi said. “That was quicker than I expected.”

“Can’t take all the credit. I had some help.”

“You’ll have to tell me all about it when I get there. Hold your position.”

“Sure. Saxon has a couple ships here. Want to break in and strip them for parts?”

“See if you can’t crack one open before I get there.”

Lind managed to override the locks on the largest cruiser before the Revenant touched down. It must have been Saxon’s flagship. The guy had a real taste for the finer things in life.

“What do we got?” Tippi called as she exited the Revenant.

“All kinds of shiny stuff. We could probably sell a lot of this for a decent price. Fett should have stuck around if he was so worried about money.”

“Fett was your special little helper? Don’t tell me you actually called him for this?”

“No, he showed up all on his own.” Tippi’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s almost like he’s following you.” 

“Coincidence. Crimson Dawn apparently got sick of Saxon, too.”

“Still. Fett’s a creep.” Lind shrugged noncommittally. Tippi cast an accusing frown at them but didn’t say anything. An excited series of beeps sounded from inside the cruiser. “What was that?”

“Remember how you said I should pick up a cleaning droid?” Lind said as MS-E trundled down the entrance ramp to report what it had found inside the cruiser.

“Is that an MS-E? Where the hell did that come from?”

“It followed me home. Can I keep it?”

“I guess. Is anyone gonna come looking for it?”

“No. I, uh…” Lind knelt down and held their hands over its audio receptors. “I _deactivated_ its original owner.”

“Whatever. Just make sure it gets regular charges.” Tippi pointed at the Revenant’s open cargo hold. The mess was clearly visible. A droid like MS-E couldn’t replicate an awed gasp but Lind felt as if MS-E was giving its all to the cause. “Get to work, MS-E.”

MS-E trilled with joy at its new order and zipped towards the nearest piece of trash. Tippi put her paws on her hips as she watched it go.

“It’s gonna be nice not being the shortest one around here.”

***

Boba Fett made contact barely a day later. In that short time he’d found something he needed fixed that just couldn’t wait. They’d set the rendezvous on a deserted moon so Lind could run jetpack drills while they waited for him. Fett arrived while Lind was still in the middle of a run through. 

Tippi stared at the worn down grip of the blaster he held in his hand as he watched Lind complete a tricky maneuver, using the added thrust from their jetboots for tighter execution. Tippi had never once seen that blaster on his person the many times he’d been on board her ship.

“That’s what you need fixed?” she asked. Fett just grunted, visor trained unerringly on Lind. “You could have gone anywhere for that. There’s a million cheaper and more convenient options.”

“Sure, but I’m willing to pay extra for discretion.”

“Discretion?”

“Been having problems with people using me as an advertising ploy. Already lost a handful of decent repair shops because they couldn’t stop flapping their mouth parts.”

“You killed them for not paying you your cut of the ad revenue? That’s on brand for you.”

“Just the ones who sold me out. I have a lot of enemies and a lot of equipment they’d like to sabotage.”

“What makes you think we’re not going to do the same? Make a little extra cash. Not like we like you much either.”

“Balazs wouldn’t risk their covert. Besides,” he continued. “Their work is... acceptable.”

“Careful, Fett. You're dangerously close to a compliment there.” He shrugged. Tippi thought he must be hanging out with Lind too often. They were picking up each other’s mannerisms.

Lind must have spotted Fett because they disengaged their thrusters and landed. It all seemed so natural and effortless but they had confided to Tippi it was anything but. Years of rigorous training under their grandmother had beaten in a habit of redoing a drill over and over until it was beyond reproach. Tippi had a lot of trouble getting them to take a break or declare anything ‘good enough’. Despite their usual perfectionism, Tippi was pretty sure Lind had just skipped several steps in that particular set. 

Lind made a beeline for the blaster.

“How’d you break this one, Fett?” they demanded.

“It’s just normal wear and tear.” Lind snatched it out of his hand and held it up to the setting suns to inspect it.

“Please tell me it isn’t just the grip. You could have done this yourself.”

“Someone has to keep you in business. Besides, I ran through my stock of spare grips.” Tippi could count pretty high but it was hard to keep track of all the reasons his excuses didn’t add up. Lind, on the other hand, didn’t seem too concerned about the math.

“This won’t take me long. Why waste the trip? Let me take a look at that jetpack while we’re here. The panel covering the manual ignition is notoriously flimsy on that model.”

“Forget it, Balazs.”

“Fine, but at least run some Rising Phoenix drills with me. You could use the practice.”

“I can run drills on my own. I’m not out to be doing synchronized team formations anyway.” 

His hormones were spiking. Tippi hadn’t smelled this particular mixture so strongly even during their first encounter. He was incredibly nervous. Tippi didn’t like to think what could make a man like Boba Fett afraid.

As much of a hurry as he had been to meet them, he was in even more of a rush to grab his re-gripped blaster and hit the hyperspace lanes.

“Lind,” Tippi said carefully. “Didn’t the wear on that grip seem sort of… _purposeful_?”

“What reason could he possibly have to do that to his own equipment?” Lind asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe he needed an excuse.”

“For what?”

“To come see you.” Lind stared at Tippi, who could practically hear the gears turning inside their helmet.

“That’s… Tippi, that’s ridiculous. You saw how antsy he was. He was itching to leave the entire time. Why go through the trouble inventing an excuse to come to a place he doesn’t even want to be?”

It must have been Tippi’s turn to shrug so she did. She had a pretty healthy suspicion about Fett’s reasons, but she decided it might be better to keep that to herself for now. Or maybe forever. Forever seemed reasonable.

Tippi’s mood was not improved when she saw that Sasch Balazs had left another message. She wished she could just delete it, but Tippi was selfish, not stupid. Tippi had made herself an invaluable factor in Lind’s success as a runner. If Tippi wanted to keep Lind around as long as possible she’d better make nice with Sasch.

She played the message. It was coordinates to meet Sasch’s small ship so Lind could return the beskar ingots they had made from Vytt Saxon’s helmet and armor. It would be kept in the reserves to be remade later for a more worthy Mandalorian. No doubt Lind would take the opportunity to visit the foundlings and deliver all the little trinkets and treats they’d been acquiring these last few months. Visits would usually last at least a week. Tippi suspected Lind might stay a little longer this time. Losing one of the foundlings they had helped raise was devastating for Lind.

Tippi had never actually been to any of the covert’s bases over the years. As valuable as her service was, Sasch always insisted that having Tippi and the Revenant linked directly to the covert’s location could blow Lind’s cover as an independent contractor and jeopardize their whole operation. Those weeks when Lind was gone were too quiet for Tippi’s taste, but she’d rather miss them for a week than never see them again.

Even so, it was hard for Tippi to remain civil as she stood with Sasch waiting for Lind to finish packing their flight bag. They’d misplaced one of the foundling’s gifts and were turning their quarters upside down to find it.

“So…” Tippi said. “Everything going ok back home?” She could never stand for an awkward silence, and silence was always awkward with Sasch.

“We are recovering from our tribulations as well as can be expected.” 

“Good. Good.” Sasch stood unmoving by the open blast doors of the airlock, her hands clasped firmly behind her back. “Any idea when you’ll be getting Lind back to me? We have a couple potential jobs lined up with the guild.”

“Lind will return when it is time.” Vague as ever. 

Tippi knew despite all she had done to keep Lind safe, Sasch still didn’t trust her. She never expressed her distaste openly, but Tippi could literally smell the condescension and resentment rolling off of her. Sasch would have made an excellent politician.

Tippi wouldn’t peg Sasch as dishonest. She certainly seemed to have integrity in terms of upholding her beliefs. The trouble was Tippi had a bad feeling one of those beliefs was that Lind and Tippi should be separated. Lind and Tippi tried to pretend that would never happen, but Sasch seemed to think it was inevitable. Tippi worried she knew something they didn’t.

Sometimes, while Lind was away with the covert, Tippi couldn’t sleep mulling over what sort of things Sasch might be telling them. Lind always came back to the Revenant in a somber mood, like they were a child who had been told off for misbehaving but didn’t quite understand what they had done wrong. Tippi always had something warm prepared and questions about how the foundlings were doing. That always perked Lind back up. Tippi felt like she knew each child even though she had never met any of them.

On some level, Tippi knew whatever emotional wedge Sasch was trying to drive between them wasn’t working. It was old news. Besides, Tippi had a brand new wedge shaped like an ugly green bucket to keep her up tonight.

As Lind followed after their sister, Tippi grabbed their sleeve. She couldn’t watch them go without saying goodbye.

“Aliit ori’shya tal’din.” 

Tippi only knew a handful of Mando’a words and phrases. She’d never been good with languages other than droid-based binary. She knew she was butchering it, but it was something Lind always said to her, and she liked the sentiment. Lind would never forget their own proverb, but sometimes Tippi got the feeling they still needed to hear it spoken out loud sometimes. Tippi thought she probably needed to hear it just as much.

_Family is more than blood._

***

The bell at the front entrance rang, and Auni looked up from the napkin dispenser she was refilling. A lone chadra-fan had entered and was making her way towards where Auni stood behind the diner’s long counter.

“Hello, Auni. You busy?”

Auni had never seen the reclusive Tippi in person, but she recognized the voice. They had spoken many times over Lind’s comm while Lind enjoyed their usual blue milkshake. She was a little floored to not only see Tippi, but to see Tippi without Lind. They’d always been kind of a package deal. Like a pair of condiment bottles. 

Tippi’s ears were drooping, and Auni wasn’t sure if chadra-fan were a species that cried but Tippi’s big black eyes seemed very wet.

“No, not busy at all, hun. It’s a slow night. Have a seat.” Tippi struggled a little to get up onto the high stool but she managed it. It would have been humorous to watch if she hadn’t looked so forlorn. “You want your usual?” Tippi shook her head.

“Not that hungry, honestly.”

“How about some Deychin tea? Nice and warm. Comforting.”

“Yeah. That sounds good.”

Auni made herself busy, bustling behind the counter. She heated the kettle and subtly moved one of the napkin holders within arm’s reach of the little chadra-fan. Just in case.

“I don’t mean to pry, love, but is everything okay? Where’s Lind? Did something happen?”

“No, nothing’s happened. Lind’s visiting family.”

“Bet you miss them. Is that what’s eating you?”

“You swear nothing I say leaves this counter?”

“Of course. We have a strict confidentiality policy. This isn’t some cruddy little cantina with a gossipy bartender.” Auni placed the steaming cup of tea in front of her. Tippi blew on it and took a small sip. 

“I’m worried about Lind. I think they might be in over their head.”

“Lind can take care of themselves, Tippi.” 

The diner had almost been robbed at blasterpoint several months ago. Almost. It happened so fast. Lind had been halfway through their blue milkshake. Next thing anyone knew, there were two stunned nikto on the floor, neatly trussed up with a whip cord. No one could really agree on the exact order of events, just that the legendary skills of the Mandalorians had not been exaggerated.

“They’ve been doing work with Boba Fett.”

“ _Kriff._ He’s pretty dangerous, isn’t he? Not that Lind isn’t dangerous too, but… well, they just don’t have the same style. What is Lind doing for him?”

“Mostly armor stuff. Maintenance and repairs. That kind of thing. Lind says what they can do is so specialized that they’d be too hard for him to replace.”

“So he’s sort of on your side then? And Lind isn’t officially partnering up with him for bounties where they’re liable to get shot. What’s the problem?”

“Lind likes him. Don’t think he’d own up to it, but I think Fett likes Lind too. His last excuse to visit was as lame as they come.”

“Like… _like_ like?” 

“I’m not sure. Maybe?”

Auni was a little shocked. Boba Fett didn’t seem like Lind’s usual type. She’d seen other patrons flirt with Lind a few times. Lind would always get flustered over it, but especially with the pretty ones. Auni didn’t know what Fett looked like under his helmet any more than they knew what Lind looked like, but she couldn’t imagine he was a pretty little Togruta with long eyelashes. But then again, who knew? It was a strange galaxy out there.

“I can’t exactly tell if they’re making eyes at each under those helmets,” Tippi continued. “But Lind keeps calling him ‘brother’ in Mando’a… well I guess it’s more like ‘sibling’. They said the language isn’t really gendered. If they are hot for each other, I really hope it doesn’t mean the same thing for them as it does on Chad. Those family relations would be a little _too_ close. Yikes, am I right??” Tippi’s giggle was strained and tapered off into uncomfortable silence. “Lind doesn’t call me vod.” She took another sip of her tea. “What if they like him more?”

“More than what? Than you?”

“Yeah. They have all that common ground with the Mandalorian stuff. They’d be like a matched set. Lind would never be out alone on assignment if he was their partner.”

“Oh, Tippi…”

“He’s already covered their back like I never could. I bet his ship is immaculate, too.” 

Auni had never seen the inside of the Revenant. She’d seen the outside not long after they’d first met when Lind and Tippi dropped off the little girl, Tula. That ship was so unsettling it really killed any curiosity she might have had about the inside. It looked like the sort of place you’d go to disappear mysteriously and never be heard from again.

A thought must have occurred to Tippi because her ears suddenly pressed back flat against her head. 

“What if he breaks their hearts?”

“Didn’t you say you established Lind only has one heart that time they got shot?”

“ _I’d tear out his finger nails and eat his eyeballs like the Toydarian dung beetles they are_.” Tippi seethed. 

“Wow, ok. I can never look at you the same way again. Tippi, you know Lind loves you right?”

“I know that. But I’m not exactly their top priority. Lind is everything to me. They’re my entire colony. But Lind still has their clan out there somewhere. If Boba Fett doesn’t get Lind, their clan will. The only reason Lind gets to be out here with me at all is because they got special permission. If they tell Lind playtime is over, they have to go back. Honor bound or whatever they call it. Being a Mandalorian is Lind’s entire identity. I could never ask them to give that up.” 

Auni was well beyond her paygrade on this, so she decided against even trying to give advice. She had no idea how Mandalorian society worked, but it sounded complicated.

“I’m sorry, Tippi.”

“Don’t be. I’m just being dumb. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Ok. Hey, Tippi? Supposing you do have some weird Mandos in Love soap opera on your hands… Lind never takes that helmet off. How would they kiss?”

“Well, Lind does this thing where they bonk my forehead with their helmet. You ever seen them do that?”

“Yeah, they did that to me a couple times, actually.”

“That’s a Keldabe Kiss, apparently the Mando equivalent of an affectionate smooch.” Auni burst into delighted laughter.

“Lind’s a slut! Who knew?? So would making out for them just be like… aggressively headbutting each other? Just like... CLANG CLANG??” 

She grabbed two metal napkin dispensers and crashed them together to demonstrate. Tippi howled with laughter.

“I guess banging for them is a much more literal term!” Tippi cackled. Her eyes were leaking. So chadra-fan could cry. Good to know.

“That’s the worst thing I ever heard,” Auni gasped through her own tears of laughter. “Get out of my diner.”

“At least let me pay for the tea first.”

“It’s on the house, hun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> The Old Apartment by Bare Naked Ladies  
> Goodnight and Go Imogen Heap  
> Cooler Than Me by Mike Posner  
> Money by Mystery Skulls  
> Bulletproof by La Roux  
> Sussudio by Phil Collins


	4. Trust Issues

“Now, I don’t normally handle these matters, but when I heard you were a real Mandalorian… well, I just had to come see this marvel for myself!” Lando Calrissian, the new Baron Administrator of Cloud City and its tibanna gas mines, gave Lind a wide, charming smile full of even, charming teeth. Lind thought they would have liked him if he wasn’t so clearly a conman. The question was, what was he after?

Calrissian’s cyborg aide set a tall glass filled with what he claimed to be genuine Mandalorian wine in front of Lind. Subtle yet fruity bouquet. Bottled before the Clone Wars. Excellent vintage, Lando had said. Obvious ploy to get a peek under the helmet, thought Lind. 

Maybe he was just here to gawk. Lind didn’t particularly care to give him a show. 

They just wanted to pick up their order of tibanna gas, and they were growing impatient. This used to be such a quick errand. They missed the practical and efficient ugnaught who usually handled things.

Maybe the mysterious Force was with them, because the blinking lights on the aide’s cybernetic implant changed their pattern and his eyes widened. He turned to Calrissian and whispered something in his ear. That charming smile vanished.

“Many apologies,” he said. “But something has come up. Lobot here will finish things up with you. Enjoy the wine.” 

Lind was almost expecting his flamboyant cape to get stuck in the door on his way out.

Lobot was much easier to deal with. No frills. The tibanna was paid for and on its way to Tippi who was preparing the cargo hold. Which just meant she was shoving things around haphazardly to make room for the gas canisters.

Lind decided to take the long way back. Cloud City was peaceful and the views of the billowing orange clouds never got old. Lind paused at a tall window to take it in. 

The window looked out onto a series of landing pads that were strangely empty. The row of pads where the Revenant had docked was bustling with activity. In this row, there was only a single, nondescript shuttle docked on the farthest platform. Tippi could probably list the make, model, and location of the reactor core. An indistinct figure stood beside it. Suspicious.

Things got even more suspicious when a second figure appeared at the end of the pad’s entrance ramp. It could only be Calrissian. Who else could pull off a baby blue cape like that? Who would want to? 

This meeting must be that ‘something’ that came up. Normally, Lind didn’t like to pry into other people’s personal business, but Lando had been fishing into Lind’s affairs earlier with that glass of wine. Tit for tat.

They unhooked their scope from their belt and trained it on the unknown figure.

It was another Mandalorian on that landing pad. Lind was intimately familiar with the curves of his helmet. It had the same proportions as their own. The same as their family’s. It was Boba. His rifle was slung across his shoulder, his hip cocked casually to the side to balance the weight. The shuttle’s ramp lowered and two more figures exited and took up places at Boba’s back. It was a pair of Imperial stormtroopers.

How many times had Lind seen those horrible, drooping helmets in their nightmares? How many times in the waking world, as they poured into a covert base and executed adults and children indiscriminately? How many had Lind dispatched themselves with extreme, unyielding prejudice?

Seeing Boba at ease in their presence wasn’t wholly unlike taking a vibroblade to the gut. Lind would even rate it a little bit higher on the pain index. They had been well aware he took Imperial bounties, but seeing it with their own eyes was different. This wasn’t theoretical, this was unavoidable reality.

What was he doing with them? Had he known Lind was here? Had they misplaced their faith in him? Subconsciously projected a false image of safety and camaraderie? It wasn’t as if Lind didn’t know what he was capable of. Not only had Lind heard of his ruthlessness, they had seen it in action. It had just been so long since it was directed at them specifically. How had Lind forgotten the cold fear of staring him down during that first fight? 

So many times he’d taken his helmet off, handed them every weapon he had, and sat back on the bench in Lind’s quarters. He often stayed there even after the work was done, both of them finding new reasons to keep talking or suggesting another sparring rematch in the hold.

He endured Lind’s merciless teasing as well as their long winded lectures. At first, he did so grudgingly. Part of the price he paid for their cooperation. But more and more frequently, something would light up in his eyes and he’d offer up his own opinions and comments. Last time, they had pulled a wry smirk from him with a terrible joke. They couldn’t recall what the subject had been. Something to do with gungans. It was irrelevant. They had made Boba Fett smile. 

Against all good sense, they had trusted him. They had allowed him access to the Revenant, to the forge, and to Lind themselves. He paid a hefty admission fee, but if things went bad between them it could cost Lind something more valuable than credits; the safety of Tippi and the covert. It would be all Lind’s fault.

What exactly was being said on that landing pad?

_ Boba, please. _

Lind activated their comm.

“Ears forward, Tippi. Looks like Cloud City has a pest problem.”

Lind was cautious as they navigated the winding white passageways towards the Revenant and a quick escape. They strained their ears for the distinctive sound of marching stormtrooper boots. 

They turned a corner. By fate or truly abysmal luck, Boba Fett entered the same passage from the opposite end. They both froze in place. He was alone. They could take him if necessary, but their heart wouldn’t be in it.

“Balazs. What are you-“ he cut himself off and waved his hand. “Don’t tell me. The less I know the better.”

“Hello, Fett. You here for the view?” Lind had decided to play it casual. He clearly suspected what they were up to, but he was right. The less he knew the better.

“You need to leave.”

“Tell me you’re not about to follow that up with ‘this mining colony ain't big enough for both of us.’ Have a little dignity, that holo wasn’t even good.”  _ Tell me the truth. Tell me why you want me to leave. Say what I need to hear. _

“Darth Vader is on his way here. Right now.” Oh. Definitely had not wanted to hear  _ that _ .

“Vader? Here? Why?” Lind had fought and killed several Inquisitors. Darth Vader was no Inquisitor. If it came to it, Lind would go down fighting. They’d prefer not to go down at all, though.

“Because I led him here.”  _ Oh no. _ Lind drew their blaster before Fett even fully had his empty hands in the air. No harm meant. Lind slowly lowered the barrel. “He’s not here for you. He’s after some rebels. Whatever it is you’re doing here, it’s not worth it. You’re no good to me dead.” 

Lind felt like they’d been free falling only for their jetpack to reignite at the last possible moment before impact. They closed the distance between them and clasped Fett’s shoulder. The new shoulder bells suited him.

“Thank you, vod.”

He shrugged them off.

“Still not your vod,” he said irritably. “Hurry up and get lost.”

***

Xin’s Parlor was an established staple among Nar Shaddaa’s many nightclubs. It was certainly a little off kilter from the smuggler moon’s usual fare. The atmosphere was just a few tacky touches shy of elegant and practically cozy. It was more of a bar than a tea parlor once you got down to brass tax. If you ordered tea you had to specifically request they hold that healthy dash of Corellian whiskey. They specialized in live shows and were well known for their beautiful performers, the majority of whom were male presenting. 

Xin catered to a very specific crowd, and many were surprised to find that included the notorious Boba Fett. It wasn’t uncommon to see him there with one of the dancers hanging off his arm, carefully avoiding the flamethrower at his wrist. Of course, Xin knew his retinue of performers had long since stopped being the draw for the bounty hunter. The arm candy was just camouflage. Xin himself was one of Boba Fett’s best kept secrets. 

Xin was a member of the reptilian Falleen species who were known for their connections to the Black Sun criminal syndicate that controlled their home planet. Xin hated to be cliche, but he had been tragically born into a high ranking family of that very organization. 

He’d sorted out early on that he lacked the ambition or the stomach to carry his family’s brutal legacy. He did, however, inherit their cunning nature and talent for political maneuvering. By the time he came of age he had everyone fully sold on his flamboyant and vapid persona. He was harmless, but hardly someone you’d want to hand the reins of a vast criminal empire to.

Absolutely no one batted an eye when he flounced off to Nar Shaddaa to open a modest little night club and marry his childhood sweetheart. It was better for everyone. They didn’t have to deal with him and he had absolutely no opportunity to learn and then blab the syndicate’s secrets. He was an incorrigible gossip.

Of course, he was still family. It was an unspoken rule among all the major gangs to keep clear of Xin’s Parlor if you didn’t want trouble. The Parlor became a well respected neutral territory over the years. As close to safe as you could get in a place like Nar Shaddaa. 

The atmosphere was relaxed and the deceptively sweet drinks were potent. Xin never let on exactly how much he knew about not just Black Sun’s operations, but every major syndicate including the Pykes and Crimson Dawn. He even had a couple high ranking Imperial regulars.

Xin appreciated peace. If people liked to think he was simple, then his lifestyle stayed that way, too. He was hardly hurting for money. Aside from the Parlor’s healthy income, Fett paid Xin a nice little stipend to remain his exclusive informant. 

Naturally, when another Mando turned up claiming Boba Fett himself had referred Xin to them, he was more than a bit intrigued. Boba Fett kept his secrets selfishly. What did this Mando have over him? Aside from about a hand and a half of height. 

“A friend of Fett’s is a friend of mine. At least I assume so. You’re the first friend he’s sent here. What can I do for you, sweet thing?” Xin asked as they settled down in his private office.

“I’m looking for someone. Maybe you’ve seen him.” 

They produced a Guild bounty puck. It projected a young man with an arrogant sneer. He was devastatingly handsome and he clearly knew it. 

“I’d hardly forget a pretty face like that. He was in here the other night. Heard him mention he had placed some hefty bets down at the track. He’s expecting a big payout on the podrace this afternoon. If you ask me, he’s in for a rude awakening. Quadrinaros coming out of retirement is a publicity stunt. He barely won a race when he was actually relevant.”

“So he’s a gambler. That’s good to know. Explains a few things.”

Xin had to agree. Petty theft was littered throughout the scrolling list of his criminal charges. Honest work was rarely enough to feed an addiction like his.

“What a shame. I offered him a job here but he turned his nose up. Too good for it, I suppose. He’d have been such a nice draw. You wouldn’t believe the tips my boys get. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually...”

“Fire away, Mando! Forgive me, that’s rude. I’m sure you have a name.”

“Lind.”

“And what a lovely name it is! Nearly musical! Now what is it you need to know? The whereabouts of another pretty boy, perhaps? I know quite a few very eligible targets.”

“I don’t know if I’d call him pretty, but I am curious about his whereabouts. I haven’t seen Fett in a couple months.”

Oh, how interesting. What purpose could they have for that kind of information? Perhaps they wanted to be sure they didn’t have competition on an upcoming job. Or… something else?

“You wouldn't call him pretty? Have you seen him without his helmet?”

“I have.” The plot thickens.

“Have you really? That’s a rarity these days. He was always so popular with the boys back when he actually took it off in public. Still is, but oh! Back in the day! He had to threaten them with that flamethrower for a little breathing room! Not that he ever actually let them go  _ too _ far away.” Xin winked.

Xin watched Lind’s entire body stiffen up. 

“Good for him,” they said evenly. Their body language was saying something very different than their mouth. Xin had lived a long life. He knew the symptoms of jealousy. 

“Well, let me see. I believe a few of my customers have mentioned he’s been hanging out on Tatooine. Heard he finally picked up one of Jabba’s smugglers that was on the lam for a couple years over a dropped spice shipment. I suppose you could call that Han Solo an _ errant  _ boy.” Xin chuckled. “Get it?”

“Like errand boy.” Lind gave a small laugh. Xin clapped his wrinkled hands with glee. Not everyone appreciated his little witticisms. A kindred spirit!

“Exactly so! Word is Fett’s being kept on retainer. You know Jabba. He loves a good show almost as much as I do. What better way to flaunt your success than by hiring the most expensive bounty hunter to stand there and look pretty? It’s easy money. Fett would be a fool to turn it down.”

“Fett does love credits,” Lind said. Xin had beers on tap that were less bitter.

“I’m sure he’s suffering terribly. Jabba’s so very fond of all those pretty dancers of his. I hear he has Sy Snootles doing private performances. Say what you will about him, but Jabba has fine taste in beautiful creatures. Not unlike our boy Fett, eh?” 

Xin watched Lind out of the corner of his eye as he sipped his tea. He had expected them to get all stiff again but instead they just sort of… drooped. 

Oh dear. His husband would have chided him for being such a busybody. He always said Xin had a terrible habit of digging up things that should have been left buried. He’d severely miscalculated. This was more than just jealousy. Unlike their fellow buckethead, it seemed Lind’s impenetrable armor was only on the outside.

Xin was an old romantic. He had cried his fair allotment of tears over a love he thought could never be before he decided _ to hell with it. _ He’d had to fight and sacrifice to have his husband at his side, but here they were over one hundred years later. He’d trade the life they had built together for nothing. 

He knew he was fortunate. He’d seen love bloom and wither among his patrons throughout his long decades running this little haven. He’d done his best to help things along when he was able. A white lie sprinkled over a harmless rumor that gave voice to someone else’s unspoken longing. Being invited to weddings he’d subliminally facilitated were the highlights of his long life. He cried at every one. His husband told him he needed to grow a thicker skin. Such a sensible man, Xin’s husband.

Xin hated seeing people alone. He understood people existed who were genuinely happiest that way, but he could never really understand how. Then there were the ones who merely claimed to be happier alone. Xin always thought the saddest ones were the relationships that were never given a chance at all. 

Love was a risky business. Some were simply too damaged and afraid to be anything other than lonely. Boba Fett fell solidly into that category. Xin had privately fretted behind his jetpack over it for years.

Fett first came to Xin’s when he was quite young. He’d only just passed the threshold into adulthood, yet he was already a veteran hunter of nearly a decade. He was as wide-eyed and innocent as someone like that could be. Xin had watched as he’d grown more comfortable in his tastes over the ensuing years and eventually fallen prey to one of Xin’s star dancers. 

Erte had always wanted more out of life, and there wasn’t much he wouldn’t have done to get it. He’d risen as far as he could as an entertainer on a seedy moon like Nar Shaddaa, and he’d decided bounty hunting of all things was the perfect lateral career move. Who better for an up and coming hunter to attach himself to but Boba Fett, precocious darling of the underworld? Fett had no complaints. He’d been smitten with Erte for quite some time, and now, finally, the object of his fascination was looking back at him.

Xin had tried to drop hints about Erte’s fickle nature, but Fett had that particular star shining in his eyes that blinded a man to all else. There was no reasoning with someone that far gone. Xin could only watch helplessly as Erte took Fett’s heart, credits, and every useful tip to complete his transformation from lowly nightclub performer to sly bounty hunter. 

Xin had been there to see the moment Fett truly fell in love and then later to witness his elation when Erte had announced his official departure from his glittering world to ostensibly join Fett in his far less glamorous one. 

They returned together to Xin’s several times, until the night it appeared Erte had decided it was time to move their business arrangement into more personal territory. Fett had been so sure Erte had invited him to that store room to consummate their partnership. 

It had been fortunate Xin had seen Erte leave the parlor alone and chosen that moment to check the store room for more tea leaves. They weren’t running low, but it was good to be safe about these things. He found Fett right where Erte had left him.

Apparently, Fett had been informed he had outlived his usefulness by way of a gaping stab wound in his back. Not the most subtle symbolism or murder attempt. Fett had gotten blood all over Xin’s nice clean floor, which was a violation of even Nar Shaddaa’s minimal health codes.

Xin himself had stemmed the flow and cleaned the wound. As he carefully stitched it closed, Fett didn’t cry out in pain even once. Concerned the young man might be in shock, Xin had asked Fett if he was alright and taken stock of his dulled eyes.

“It wasn’t personal,” was all he had said. 

Xin was an excellent liar, but he didn’t think he could be convincing if he were to claim he was sorry to hear Fett had killed Erte not even a year after he’d made his big solo debut as a hunter. Erte had always been terrible about stepping on toes trying to climb to the top. He really should have been more careful those toes didn’t have spiked tips.

Xin definitely would be equally unconvincing if he claimed not to understand why Fett let Erte live so long. The stars that lived in people’s eyes left a lingering blindness even after the star itself went nova.

Fett had hardly been an unlocked datapad before, but he seemed to shut down almost entirely after that nasty business. Xin rather suspected the worst damage hadn’t been physical. Fett kept his eyes protected from the stage lights by his helmet and never came for the shows anymore. Just information.

Xin enjoyed a little harmless muckraking every now and then, but he had never much cared for the business of snitching. If he were to be fully transparent, he had accepted Fett’s exclusive informant contract more to keep his eye on Fett himself than anything else. Every credit Fett had ever paid him lay untouched in a bank vault on Muun, slowly accruing interest. This was the only form of help he could offer that Fett would accept. Fett had been gravely injured in Xin’s establishment, and Xin felt responsible.

Xin didn’t know Lind very well, but they seemed like a simple and honest person in the very way Xin pretended he was. Good sense of humor, too. He rather hoped Fett had learned to spot these qualities as well as he had greed and duplicity. At least for Lind’s sake, if not for his own.

“Before you go,” he said as gently as he could. “Could I offer you a drink? On the house of course. I’d hate if you left thinking me inhospitable.”

“No, thank you. That’s very kind, but it’s early and I think I’m going to need my helmet on as straight as possible today.”

“Of course, of course,” Xin said. “At least take a little bag of nibbles for the road. Can’t have you bounty hunting on an empty stomach.” 

Falleen had a unique ability to produce pheromones that could alter a wide array of sentients’ moods. It was widely exploited for less than savory purposes, which gave the entire species a rather unfortunate reputation. Xin generally refrained but it was a very useful de-escalation tactic if things got tense between his customers. 

Xin released a wave of calming pheromones for Lind while he assembled them a little to-go bag of bar snacks. His husband would have scolded him for giving away their top shelf imported mixed nuts for free. What his husband didn’t know couldn’t be used in the divorce proceedings he liked to facetiously threaten. 

Xin was well aware Lind’s helmet would filter out and identify any foreign airborne contaminants. If their system was at all like Fett’s, it would even provide the name of the exact type of pheromone he had secreted. It was an unspoken apology he hoped they would understand. 

***

Fett had told Lind about the old nightclub owner just before they ran into each other on Bespin. Next time they met, Lind would have to thank Fett for the tip. He’d said Xin’s services were very exclusive, but Lind would be good if they threw Fett’s name around. They wondered who else Xin supplied. Maybe Bossk. He’d been in the game longer than most other hunters. 

Fett had been right. Xin’s intel was both accurate and invaluable. They’d located Pirri Tanil almost immediately upon arriving at the podracing circuits. His handsome face had been twisted in a deeply frustrated grimace. Xin had clearly been spot on about the podrace outcome as well as the location.

Tanil was technically unemployed. He subsisted on the gifts and attention showered upon him by his wealthy older boyfriend, a well established businessman from Naboo. One day Tanil had vanished. The boyfriend had contacted the Bounty Hunter’s Guild to track him down and bring him back. 

When Tanil disappeared, the client’s immediate suspicion wasn’t foul play but another man. This wasn’t the first time Tanil had run off, and this time he took the client’s heart and a small fortune of funds siphoned from the client’s private accounts. The infidelity and theft apparently didn’t matter. The client had known for years that his feelings were unreciprocated and that Tanil had been using him for credits. The client didn’t know how long he had left and he wanted to spend it with the love of his life by his side.

Lind was well-aware that they had a sappy streak but even they had to gag over the situation. Based on the ostentatious collar-style necklace Tanil wore, the client would have been better off getting a tooka. It would certainly have been smarter and more loyal. Not that Lind could fault Tanil for running away.

Turned out Tanil had a little more tooka in him than Lind had realized. The moment he saw them approaching he turned his proverbial tail and took off like a laser bolt from a blaster. He clearly kept his slim but defined physique by doing a lot of cardio.

Well that was fine. Lind liked running, too. 

Tanil wove through the crowded streets like the former Corellian streetrat he’d been before the client had picked him up as a glorified pet. He was clearly used to his pursuers also being on foot. Lind ignited their jetpack and took to the air. 

Tanil took a sharp turn down an alley and Lind activated their rocket boots to compensate for the jetpack’s lack of agility. He was much more slippery than anticipated, and Lind’s internal viewscreen notified them that the jetpack was running dangerously low on fuel. This model was similar to Fett’s and wasn’t meant for extended flights.

They nearly managed to grab Tanil by the collar before the jets sputtered and gave out. Lind tucked and rolled as they plummeted to the filthy ground. They rolled to their knees in time to see Tanil disappear around the corner. There was very little chance they’d spot him again now that they’d lost sight of him in Nar Shaddaa’s maze of back alleys.

Fortunately, Lind didn’t need visual to see where Tanil was. The tracker they’d managed to tag that awful collar with would do the job for them. The signal was strong.

Lind followed on foot, watching Tanil’s pace gradually slow before stopping altogether and then resuming at what seemed like a leisurely stroll. He believed he had lost them. 

It didn’t take long for Lind to catch up, walking directly parallel to him with nothing but a low apartment complex separating them. Lind activated their rocket boots to reach a higher level of the building before scaling it the old fashioned way. Tanil was easily spotted from the roof. That necklace was a glittering beacon in its own right.

They watched him stop and turn, likely checking for pursuers once more. Lind chose that moment to activate the rocket boots again and drop down right into his path. He didn’t hear them land over the clamor of the busy street around them.

When he turned back and found himself nose to visor with Lind, he startled violently. His hands came up in front of his body as if to protect himself. They rose almost perfectly into the set of binders Lind held in front of their chest. They snapped them shut around his wrists.

The client had provided a rather embarrassing personal holo to demonstrate Tanil’s voice and mannerisms to the Guild ‘s hunters.

“Hey there, pretty little thing,” they said in mocking repetition of the client’s favorite demeaning moniker. Tanil spat directly into Lind’s faceplate.

Worth it.

Lind locked him in the holding cell built into a far corner of the Revenant’s hold. Lind sat on a half empty rations crate across from him to keep watch.

The bounty puck had been very specific. Pirri Tanil was to be brought in alive or not at all. They didn’t want to risk him harming himself and giving the client a reason to demand a discounted rate for damaged merchandise. As Fett liked to say, it was just good business.

Lind found the entire relationship dynamic between the client and Tanil repulsive to the extreme, but they also felt a burning jealousy. Did Tanil know how lucky he was to be so deeply valued despite having done nothing of equal value to earn it?

Based solely on the abuse he was hurling at them, probably not.

Tanil really was good looking enough to fit in among Xin’s performers, although that didn’t make him more enjoyable for Lind to look at. He had a venomous personality at odds with his handsome face. Overall, Tanil was terrible company.

“I heard you Mandos never take your helmets off,” he sneered. “What are you hiding under there? Bet you look like the wrong side of a Hutt.” 

Comments like that didn’t bother Lind.

“Makes sense you all got culled and what’s left became bounty hunters. Force knows you’d never be wanted!”

Comments like that on the other hand...

“Only thing not wanted around here is you running your mouth.” When had Tippi come down? Immediately following that thought was a soft blue stun blast that took Tanil clean off his feet. He collapsed against the metal bars of the holding cell’s back wall.

“Tippi!” Lind shouted, rushing to open the cage and check Tanil’s vitals. They pressed the handheld medical scanner to his head to check for a concussion. He was in the clear. “What were you thinking? We need him unharmed if we want to get paid full price!”

“Oh, he seems pretty unharmed to me. If anything, I think I improved his personality. We should be paid extra for that.”

“Tippi…” Lind didn't have it in them to reprimand her any further. The whole escapade had left them feeling drained and frankly they were glad they didn’t have to take several more hours of Tanil’s spleen. They arranged Tanil in a more comfortable position, pillowing his jacket beneath his head, then locked the door again. They were sure he’d have plenty to complain about when he woke up but a stiff neck wouldn’t be one. 

All four of Tippi’s nostrils flared as Lind dropped heavily back onto their crate.

“You smell a little...  _ blue _ .” Lind didn’t react. They didn’t have the energy. “Wow, must be serious. You usually love bad puns. This isn’t about Boba Fett, is it?” Lind turned their visor to meet Tippi’s eyes.

“Why would it be?”

“No reason. Just haven't seen him in a while. Thought you might be getting lonely or something. Look, your sadness stink is making me depressed, too. What’s eating you?”

“I don’t know. I guess this job is just really playing on some old insecurities.” Lind gestured at Tanil’s limp body. “This creep can be as horrible as he’d like yet the client still wants him back safely and in one piece. Meanwhile, I’ve struck out with everyone I ever got even slightly tingly over.”

“What about that girl at the fuel station you told me about? Weren’t you the one to break it off that time?”

“Only because I didn’t want to hear another list of ways I didn’t measure up when she got around to doing it herself. I got my fill from… well, you know.” Tippi did know. Tippi was still incensed over what she knew. “Tippi? Is there something wrong with me? On a molecular level maybe.” 

Tippi sighed.

“Look, Lind. I can’t say I really understand all this. I never cared about falling in love and then... he just sort of happened. It wasn’t anything I did or didn’t do.” Tippi hopped up onto the crate beside Lind. She drummed her heels against it in a slow, steady beat, like a heart at rest. “It only happened once so my experience is a little limited but… we were happy. I don’t think anyone who really loves you will hold you to some arbitrary standard you were never built for in the first place. You don’t use a starfighter if you need a light cruiser.” She reached down and took as much of Lind’s hand into her little paw as she was able. She could maybe fit three of Lind’s fingers between her own. “The only thing wrong was how those people were trying to use you. You know what I like to say.”

“Respect the specs.” Tippi nodded. Lind’s memory was a thing of wonder. “Thanks for the advice. Some of it sounded more for starships but I think it applies.”

“You still smell. You don’t feel any better, do you?”

“Honestly? Not really.”

“What did we even have this conversation for then?” Lind shrugged. “Ugh, whatever.” Tippi squeezed Lind’s fingers. “It’s no Auni’s, but I hear there’s a nice little diner in Theed. They’re supposed to have actual Chadrian cave hoppers in one of their appetizers. Pick some up for me on your way back from dropping this sleaze off, would you? Maybe get yourself a little something and eat your feelings like the rest of us.”

“Oh,” Lind said. “That reminds me. Fett’s contact gave me this. It might help with my smell.” Lind pulled the little bag from where it hung on their belt and opened it. Tippi leaned in and inhaled the sweet aroma wafting out.

“I think you must be exclusively attracted to idiots, Lind.”

“What can I say? I like ‘em stupid.”

“You’re a catch. It’s almost impossible to find someone who’d share a nut mix like this. If he gave these to me, it wouldn’t matter how much I loved someone. I wouldn’t share.”

“Not even with me?”

“There’s always an exception. Now gimme.”

***

Like the rest of the criminal underworld, Hondo was shaken to his core by the death of Jabba the Hutt. Truly, he had been a valuable client when he wasn’t vindictively posting bounties on Hondo’s head over inconsequential misunderstandings. They always made up in the end. Hutts were so very touchy, and he had always tried his best to remain on Jabba’s good side, which was much smaller than one might expect from someone of that size.

Considering such sad news, he was overjoyed at the unexpected appearance of his old friend, Lando Calrissian. He was a little surprised Lando was openly working with the Rebel Alliance. He used to be a much more sly businessman, and idealism did not pay well. But Hondo of course could not pass up the opportunity to play a round of Sabacc with him. Lando had always been good company, if a bit flaky in their business ventures. He was also a direct witness of what had happened on Jabba’s sail barge. 

As sorry as Hondo was to hear of Jabba’s tragic, though well deserved, passing, he was even sorrier to hear about Boba Fett’s. 

Poor Boba. Taken too soon by sheer dumb luck. Such an ignominious end for such an accomplished and notorious hunter! He was truly sorry to see the Fett family business go under at last. Both the father and son had been so very reliable. Always got the job done, always got their man. Bona fide action holo star types. Hondo would treasure his last memory with Boba forever, though it was a bit bittersweet.

Hondo had been so wounded! How could Boba refuse his incredibly generous offer? Had they not been friends since Boba was a helpless little child? Like a father to the boy! Speaking of fathers, had he not also been Jango’s trusted ally? The betrayal of it all! The disrespect. 

Honestly, mentioning the handful of Mandalorians he could hire in Fett’s stead was the kindest form of retribution he could have dealt out. Boba Fett was a dangerous man. Better to poke at his ego than outright antagonize him.

Boba had stood impassively as Hondo listed each hunter. It was oh-so-satisfying to finally see his posture stiffen up when Hondo mentioned one in particular.

“Balazs is competent. They would be your best bet.” Oh ho! He knew Lind by name. How very intriguing.

“So you have crossed paths!” Boba grunted affirmation. Hondo would have to dig a little deeper to satisfy his curiosity. The information could be lucrative. “They are, as you say, quite competent. Now I know you like to be a lone loth-wolf, but have you ever taken them on as a partner?” 

“Once or twice.”

“Really? A repeat performance? The two of you are hardly in the same class. I trust it must have been a most fruitful partnership for them to earn such glowing praise from a man of your status?” 

“They do good work.”

“One might almost think you admire them,” Hondo took a risk and jabbed at Fett’s ribs with his elbow. In a conspiratorial tone he said, “Ever thought about extending the ah…  _ terms _ , shall we say, of that partnership?”

“I don’t mix business and pleasure, Ohnaka.” Such a stick in the mud, this one. “Don’t think Lind would stand for it anyway.”  _ Gotcha.  _

“With Lind, business  _ is  _ a pleasure! No?” Boba was quiet for a very telling minute.

“It is,” he finally conceded.

It was simply good manners to pass along the news of Boba’s untimely demise to Lind. He had been curious what sort of reaction they might have. Perhaps the information was no longer useful but he had always been invested in the wellbeing of his friends. He would have liked to see Boba find happiness. And Lind seemed like such a pleasant sort. Such a waste. Having two Mandalorians in tandem pointed at one of his projects would have been most profitable. 

After he broke the news, as gently as possible of course, it was like watching a puffer pig deflate. There was an almost imperceptible tremor in their shoulders.

“My sincerest apologies! I did not realize this news would upset you so. I realize not every Mandalorian knows one another, but were you two perhaps... _ close? _ ” Hondo intertwined his fingers to emphasize the sort of closeness he was imagining.

“Not like that. He was…” They hesitated. “He was a friend.”

“Not to hear him tell it!” Tippi chimed in over the comm.

“Ahhh well, our Boba was never really the emotionally vulnerable type, eh?” What he assumed was Lind’s eyeline was trained on the floor at their feet. He placed a comforting hand on one of their pauldrons. Fine quality. Expensive. “He spoke highly of you, Lind. I am certain he was fond of you as well.”

More than fond if he wasn’t very much mistaken.

“Unlikely.” Lind sounded miserable. “Acquaintances might be a better term. Business associates. I was useful to him. Guys like that go for pretty dancing girls.” 

He would not deign to make assumptions, but it was odd how they had circled back to the topic of romantic entanglement. It seemed Boba Fett hadn’t been the only Mando in over their bucket in denial. What a shame. To think what could have been...

“Yeah,” Tippi was solidly on the opposite end of the emotional spectrum from her partner. “Bet he couldn’t have handled anyone that threatened his tough guy mystique. Not that it did him any good in the end!” Tippi’s laughter was loud enough to cause a feedback loop. Hondo winced at the piercing screech. Inconsiderate. Of poor Lind’s feelings, but mostly his delicate hearing.

“Our Boba always did have an ego, to be sure. But I think you might have been surprised by his...eh heh heh…  _ preferences _ , shall we say?”

“He wasn’t one of those freaks who is just a little too into their blasters, was he?” Tippi asked. “I saw how he used to cuddle that EE-3 carbine.” Hondo threw his head back and roared with laughter. 

“So sorry, my friends! I can’t be giving all his secrets away, even if he is a dead man. It’s bad for business, you understand.”

***

Like all of the jobs Lind took for Hondo, it turned out much more complicated than promised. Lind was just supposed to be his muscle for insurance while he picked up the shipment of contraband from his supplier. 

It had been all going just dandy until the swoop ride back to Hondo’s little freighter. This was the first job for the swoop after Din had finally returned it. It was a little worse for wear but still running. Hondo suddenly shouted in alarm and tightened his grip on Lind’s waist.

”My friend! I think perhaps I have found evidence of the hereafter!”

“I hear there’s a big market for that sort of thing!” Lind called back. “You could make a killing!”

“Hilarious as always, but I really think you ought to take a look for yourself! We have an angry looking ghost coming up behind us!”

They were on a straightaway so Lind locked the handlebars and took a brief glance behind them. What they saw caused so many conflicting feelings at once all they felt by the end was numb.

Speeding towards them was another swoop piloted by someone wearing a helmet in a familiar green. 

Lind hit the brakes.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what is this??” Hondo cried. “Alive or dead, we don’t need that one catching us!”

Lind didn’t have a single snappy comeback. They barely even registered Hondo had spoken. Their visor was trained, dead set, on the approaching figure. 

The swoop was on them within moments and the rider dismounted, pulling his rifle off his back as Hondo cowered behind what little protection Lind’s swoop provided.

Fett didn’t have that model of rifle.

It might have looked like Mandalorian armor from a distance but up close Lind could see it was a disgusting hack job. Was that a seam line in the helmet? Whoever made it clearly hadn’t the first clue about Mandalorian construction techniques. Or any construction techniques for that matter. That visor looked like it was held in with spit and a prayer.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Lind demanded. They already knew what he was going to say.

“I’m Boba Fett.” Even the voice was wrong.

  
“No you’re not.” They put two blaster bolts directly through his trash visor before he had a chance to even think about raising his rifle. An imposter  _ and  _ slow on the draw. Boba would have been insulted. But Boba was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Nemesis by Benjamin Clementine  
> Leave by Glen Hansard  
> Just Like Jesse James by Cher  
> Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wines  
> Nobody by Mitski  
> Illusion by VNV Nation


	5. The Empty Maw

Lind made it a habit to kill every Boba Fett imposter they encountered going forward. They even tracked down the hack armorsmith who had been supplying the knockoff helmets. They just about knocked his head clean off his neck. The bodies were really starting to pile up. 

As Lind stood over the latest one, Tippi expressed concern that this might not have been the healthiest coping mechanism.

“I know you liked him, but this is…” her voice crackled from the comm.

“Tippi, don’t you dare say overkill.”

“I was trying to think of another word but that fits the bill too well.”

“They shouldn’t be trying to profit off his name.”

“Lind, profiting off the misfortune of others is the whole point of bounty hunters. If anything, these guys are just carrying on the legacy.”

Lind disconnected the comm and gave the body one last vicious kick. This wasn’t Boba Fett’s legacy. They couldn’t really articulate what they thought it actually was, but they just knew it wasn’t this. It couldn’t be. Even if no one else in the galaxy but Lind thought so, he deserved to be remembered with at least some modicum of respect.

Lind thought he would have made fun of them for believing that. _Useless sentiment_ , was how he put it once. He’d rolled his eyes at them, and they’d thrown a dirty rag at his face. He’d been very smug when it missed him. Lind didn’t know whether he was amused by their poor aim or because he knew they’d missed on purpose. Now they’d never know, and that hurt more than Lind could have anticipated. They had only known Boba Fett a handful of years, yet they felt his loss as deeply as the foundling Rani or the vode Lind had trained beside since childhood. 

Boba Fett’s death was worse in some ways. It felt as if two men had died instead of one. They mourned the Boba Fett they had known and the one they never had the chance to. There was no one Lind could directly blame and kill to avenge him. His death was both purely accidental and foolish. No Vytt Saxon, no stormtroopers. It was a helpless grief. 

Life went on. Lind performed their responsibilities for the covert and ate every piece of candy Tippi offered them with the same level of dutifulness. They didn’t even mention when the candy was more bug than sugar, which they suspected was a purposeful attempt to provoke a reaction. They just didn’t have it in them to do anything other than push it past their helmet seal and swallow. Maybe that would ease Tippi’s concern that they weren’t eating enough.

There had been several nights where Lind had woken up from a dream they couldn’t remember with a wet pillow beneath them. Sometimes they found Tippi sitting on the edge of their bunk in the pitch black room, stroking the stubble of hair covering the side of their head. Lind wondered what it must have been like for Tippi before they had met. All alone on this dark ship while she wept over whoever it was she had lost. There was a lingering presence of things lost permeating the entire structure. Lind finally understood why Tippi had named it the Revenant. 

Lind took on more and more work for the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. Tippi wrung her paws and begged them to just take it easy for a while. The covert was doing well. All their expenses were covered. Lind insisted they could always use more credits for the rainy day fund. Really, starships got too quiet. Lind found being shot at to be a remarkably effective distraction. They thought this must be why Boba Fett had kept so busy. 

As the months passed, it started to get easier. Lind could forget the pain a few hours at a time. They let Tippi talk them out of a couple of the more dangerous bounties. Lind had lost enough people to know this was the natural healing process at work, but it felt different this time. As Lind began to move forward, they couldn’t shake a deep set guilt, as if Fett was just out of sight, silently begging not to be left behind. Who else was there to carry his memory? There was guilt in the grief now.

Lind had gone to take Tippi’s advice and eat their feelings when an excited young Gand rushed into Auni’s diner shouting that two Boba Fetts were duking it out down the street. Lind was compelled to abandon their half finished blue milkshake in favor of finishing both of the imposters permanently. If Lind was to be the sole custodian of what remained of Boba Fett, they would be damned if they didn’t follow through with the same level of dedication they did every other task assigned to them. They wouldn’t let him be diminished and forgotten.

Lind shoved their way through the crowd of onlookers that surrounded the fight at least four beings deep. One of the combatants had actually acquired real Mandalorian armor. It took Lind a moment to recognize the family crest on his breast plate and the splashes of rusty orange peeking out from beneath the hastily applied green paint. They knew him. 

Jodo Kast was full of ambition and empty of sense. Lind felt his brain cells must be getting lonely separated by all that unfilled space inside his skull. He had become a runner for one of the smallest satellite coverts against Lind’s recommendation not too long ago. They’d always said it was only a matter of time before he got himself into hot water. Now here he was, in over his head, and it looked like the pot was about to boil over. 

Kast’s opponent looked nothing like how the galaxy had come to know Boba Fett, but he certainly moved like him. He was wearing a basic gray flight suit and minimal armor, just traditional kneepads and a large leather pauldron that only covered one shoulder. His helmet was the same gray as his flight suit with deep maroon accents. That helmet was commonly referred to as hunter style among armorers. It lacked the distinctive T shaped visor, so many people didn’t even realize it was Mandalorian at all. 

Lind was livid. All that time they had listened to other Mandos call Fett an imposter and now here were two supposedly legitimate members of the creed bickering over who got to wear his armor and reputation like a cheap costume. Hypocrites.

The hunter momentarily got the upper hand, aiming his blaster point blank at the back of Kast’s helmet. At that range, it would likely pierce the helmet’s rear vent panel, beskar or not. The unknown hunter must not have seen the jet thrusters on Kast’s jetpack swivel before Kast activated them, propelling himself forward and his assailant in the opposite direction. The hunter’s blaster bolt flew wide of its target.

Fett apparently hadn’t been the only one neglecting his jetpack drills. Kast stumbled trying to regain his footing after disengaging the thrusters, giving the hunter enough time to recover enough to rise to one knee and fire a dart from a launcher mounted on the side of one of his kneepads. It pierced Kast’s neck seal, and he collapsed.

The hunter rose to his feet and approached Jodo Kast’s fallen body. From the way Kast was twitching, it looked like the dart had been lethal, not a tranquilizer.

“You have a lot to learn, but it doesn’t look like you have time left for any more lessons,” the hunter said. He didn’t just move like Boba. He even sounded like him. Maybe he was another clone, or he was just putting in extra effort to make up for his inaccurate disguise. It looked like he was about to remedy that final discrepancy. “You won’t be needing these. Not like you earned this armor.” He began to remove one of Kast’s shoulder bells with a crudely painted mythosaur skull on it. “You’ll never be me. There’s only one Boba Fett.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Lind said, stepping into the ring. The crowd murmured and backed up. No one believed either of these men had been the real Boba Fett, but Lind’s local reputation as a Mando not to be messed with was very real.

“Balazs,” the hunter breathed. He sounded surprised to see them but not afraid. He really should be.

“So you know my name. Done actual research for the part?” 

Lind didn’t wait for a comeback. They didn’t care what else he had to say in his stolen voice. They charged him as he rushed to abandon his task of collecting Kast’s armor. Most of the crowd scattered. They were pretty sure they knew how this was going to turn out, and no one wanted to be an accidental casualty when it got ugly. 

“Balazs, wait! It’s me! It’s- _OOF_!” Lind nailed him right in the solar plexus. Ironically, he should have worn more armor. “Bala-” They struck again, this time hitting him squarely in the helmet. His head snapped backwards with the force of it. “Would you- for just a damn sec-” Another blow to his head. 

He blocked their next attack and grabbed Lind by the wrist. He truly was a cut above his fellows. He managed to twist Lind’s arm behind their back almost hard enough to rip it from the socket. _Boba wouldn’t have held back_ , Lind thought furiously as they struggled against his grip. Fett would have broken Lind’s arm. 

The imposter held them in place as best as he could and yelled directly next to their earcap, “ _Stop_ , di’kut! DI’KUT!”

_Di’kut._

He couldn’t know the significance of that insult for Lind. For Boba. Not if he wasn’t… 

Lind stopped fighting. He released their arm and pushed them away. Lind spun to face him.

“Take the helmet off,” Lind demanded. “ _NOW_.” He obeyed. 

They knew that scar that interrupted his hairline. They knew that deeply irritated downturn of his mouth. The furious crease of his brow. Nobody else in the galaxy could look as exasperated with Lind as Boba Fett.

He spread his arms wide in the galaxy’s most unenthusiastic _ta da!_

“Did you miss me?”

“This can’t be true,” Lind said. “It’s not possible.”

“I assure you, it _can_ and _is_.” He winced as he rubbed his jaw. It must have ached where they had gotten the hit in on his helmet. Twice. Oh, his poor head. Why had they done that?

Lind lunged toward him again. His eyes widened in alarm, and he tried to stumble backwards. He must still have been dazed, because he wasn’t fast enough to escape as they clasped the sides of his face and brought their foreheads together in a Keldabe Kiss.

Fett stood as if frozen in carbonite. Eventually, reality caught up to Lind and they stepped back and let go of him. It wasn’t as if they had never embraced their sister or another member of the covert in such a way. It was just a greeting for a comrade. A celebration of having both survived a great ordeal. It meant _I’m glad you’re not dead_. 

“Where is your armor?” _Why didn’t you call me?_

“It’s on the Slave I. It’s in bad shape. Didn’t want to get an earful from you about ‘proper maintenance’.”

Lind laughed.

“Di’kut. Go and get it. I’ll get the forge warmed up. The Revenant is in Docking Bay 16.”

The few onlookers who were brave enough to stay for the duration of the fight didn’t really know how to explain what had happened when asked about it later. They’d all been at a distance too safe to overhear what had passed between the two fighters. There was a popular theory that if the hunter in maroon could disarm Lind Balazs, there was a real possibility he might actually be who he claimed.

***

Fett hadn’t been exaggerating. ‘Bad shape’ indeed. It practically wasn’t in any shape at all. Most of it was so pitted and warped from the sarlacc’s stomach acid it was nearly unrecognizable, much less salvageable. Aside from having the paint stripped from most of the surfaces, the helmet and shoulder bells had survived largely unscathed by grace of being made with beskar.

Lind gingerly held up what they assumed must have once been the abdominal plate.

“As flattering as your faith in my skill is, I don’t think I can work with this.”

“Yeah. I kind of figured. I was planning to save this for a rainy day.” He placed a camtono on Lind’s workbench “Sun’s out, but I guess today will have to be it.” 

Fett keyed in the access code. It hissed as it opened and Lind stopped breathing. Inside were two neat stacks of beskar ingots. 

“Where did you get all of this?” Lind picked one up and weighed it in their hand.

“Do you really want to know?” 

Lind ran a finger over the cog shaped stamp in the metal. They remembered delivering relief supplies to the coverts that had formed after the Imperial occupation of the Mandalore system. The stories Lind had memorized as the record of the Night of a Thousand Tears. Of the ensuing Imperial seizure of Mandalorian land and resources. The names of the loved ones dead or left behind, who became slaves in the beskar mines. If they were lucky.

“No, I suppose I don’t.”

“Use what you need for my new armor. You can keep the rest. As payment for your time.” Lind nodded in assent. Grandmother would be pleased to have the beskar back in Mandalorian hands. They’d better melt it down and reforge the ingots first though. Lind refused to bring that seal into the covert.

“Will you please allow me to paint it for you this time?”

“No. I’ve seen how you render a mythosaur skull.”

“It’s stylized.”

“Call it what you like. It’s ugly.”

Lind began their work soon after. They finished the pair of breast plates before they could no longer keep a steady hand. They’d injure themselves, or worse, damage the beskar if they continued. It had been a long day, even if it was just early afternoon. A lot had happened.

They quenched the second breast plate, laid it out to cool next to its twin, and sat down beside Fett on the bench.

“I think you’re going to have to come back for the rest,” they told him.

“Sure.” He didn’t sound too put out about having to wait. 

“Boba, I have a question for you.”

“We are NOT on a first name basis.” Apparently _that_ he was put out by.

“We are if I keep calling you by your first name.”

“No wonder your clan doesn’t want you around.” He was joking, but it still stung a little. Not as much as it usually would have, though. Lind must have been more tired than they thought.

“Harsh but fair. But circling back. What are your feelings on Whistling Birds?” Fett straightened up in his seat. He leaned towards Lind.

“My feelings are that if you can get me Whistling Birds then you can call me anything you want.”

“I may know someone. What would you be willing to pay?”

“Isn’t it free for your _vod_?” 

“What vod would that be?”

“We are back off first name basis.”

“Hey, Boba.” Another question had occurred to Lind. Much less practical than the Whistling Birds.

“What did I just say about first name basis?”

“Did your father tell you the stories about Arasuum the sloth god and Kad Ha’rangir the destroyer god?”

“Can’t see how, but this had better be relevant to Whistling Birds, Balazs.”

“How do you envision Arasuum?”

“He’s a giant sloth. What’s to envision?”

“That’s what I always thought, too. Apparently he’s just... a guy.”

“What do you mean he’s just a guy?”

“He’s a god of sloth as in stagnation and has no relation to the animal at all.” 

Boba frowned deeply.

“That can’t be right.”

“It’s true. I wanted to depict his great battle with Kad Ha’rangir on a pair of pauldrons during my apprenticeship and my grandmother told me I was an idiot to put a Kashyyykian sloth on the left one.”

“You _are_ an idiot, and he’s not real. Why can’t he be a giant sloth?”

“That’s exactly what I said!”

“This is the stupidest conversation I’ve ever had. Can I just get my kriffing Whistling Birds?”

*******

Tippi peered out of the vent where she had been keeping watch over Lind and Fett. She was neither surprised nor happy he had found his way back from the dead. Lind clearly didn’t agree. Lind seemed nearly giddy. The two of them had quickly fallen back into their old routine, quipping at each other relentlessly, but Tippi sensed something vital had changed in their dynamic. She had that horrible suspicion again.

When Fett finally left the forge he was cradling his set of shiny new breast plates in his hand. They gleamed even in the ship’s low lighting. It was a shame he was going to paint them and hide Lind’s beautiful work. 

He was still missing the bulk of the components that constituted a full set. Tippi was not fond of Lind’s bad habit of overworking themselves, but she still wished the whole set could be banged out that afternoon. Then Fett didn’t have a reason to come back. 

She watched him gingerly pick his way around the trash and shipping containers that littered the Revenant’s hallway. He made an audible sound of distaste. He had expressed a very low opinion of Tippi’s housekeeping many times. He wasn’t wrong. Just rude.

“Hey, Fett.”

He stopped and turned towards her voice. In the past, Lind had always been with her when she had met Fett face to face. She tried not to linger on the thought that she was alone with the most dangerous bounty hunter alive. She folded her paws under her chin in what she hoped was a cavalier manner. She grinned down at him with a carefully calculated number of sharp little fangs on display. Didn’t want him getting the wrong idea. They weren’t friends.

Even without his helmet, the man had an excellent Sabacc face. Unfortunately for him, Tippi had learned enough about his scent by now to make an educated guess about his heightened emotional state. Right now he was feeling the emotion she most easily recognized from him: Aggravation. 

“So I heard a fun little rumor,” she said.

“Don’t.”

“Jetpack misfire, was it?”

“Stop.”

“Got poked with a stick, did you?”

“No.”

“By a blind guy.”

“You done?”

“Right into a Sarlacc. Did you go all the way through to the digestive tract? Bet it felt just like home. Say, didn’t Lind mention something about your jetpack? Can’t quite recall! My memory is almost as fuzzy as I am! ”

“Don’t you dare say it.”

“As if I need to,” Tippi turned her nose up. “But I will anyway. It wouldn’t have happened if you let Lind replace those cover panels like they wanted. Or if you practiced the Lifted Endorian Chicken or whatever when they offered.” 

“Rising Phoenix. I don’t need their help.”

“Demonstrably untrue, Sarlacc Snack.” Fett was resolutely silent. Tippi sighed. Her expression turned serious. “Full disclosure, I’m no fan of yours but I’d prefer if you’d manage not to die. Lind likes having you around. They said they miss being around another Mando.”

“They can always go back to the covert for socializing.” Tippi’s posture visibly stiffened. “But you don’t want that, do you?”

“It’s not about what I want.”

“Sure it isn’t, Ms. Co-Dependent. Worried your personal bodyguard might jet on back to the old family sewer for good and leave you alone in your creepy junk heap? Gotta make sure they get their little buckethead play date so they stay?” 

“Not the point,” Tippi grit her teeth. He was being meaner than usual. “Lind doesn’t act the same after visiting their clan as they do when you drop in.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lind talks about how belonging to a community is a whole thing with you Mandos.”

“Feels like they never stop talking about it,” Fett grumbled.

“Well, I think maybe Lind doesn’t belong in the covert the way they want to.”

“Not my problem. I don’t care about Balazs or their family issues.”

“Your helmet is SO far up your own butt. You just handed over enough beskar to pay your usual fee a thousand times over. Deep down you _like_ when they call you vod, don’t you? Bet you feel all warm and tingly. You two are the same.”

“Balazs and I are nothing alike.”

“True. Lind is twice the Mando you are.”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m not a real Mando.”

“That’s not what Lind says.” He’d experienced a sudden hormonal spike. She had smelled this particular mixture before, but never so intensely. Joy. Just as quickly, a much more familiar scent flooded his system. Rage, with a dash of confusion.

“You don’t know a thing about me,” he hissed. He turned his back and stomped across the threshold of the airlock connecting the Revenant and Slave I. His hand hovered over the release controls for a moment before he turned back to Tippi. “And neither does Lind.” He slammed his fist on the panel and the blast doors snapped shut.

Tippi smirked. 

_Not on first name basis, huh?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack  
> When the Night is Over by Lord Huron  
> The Walk by Imogen Heap  
> Jetpack Blues by Fallout Boy  
> I’m Still Standing by Elton John  
> Take Me Out by Atomic Tom


	6. Stripped

Boba Fett closed in on his target. They knelt on the ground beside a flowering bush growing at the edge of a worn foot trail. Most likely checking for disturbed foliage and soil where a person or animal had passed. He thought it was a little ironic they were tracking something while being tracked themselves. He left his cover and aimed his blaster at their blue helmet...

Finally, Lind’s visor turned in his direction. They gave him an absent-minded wave before returning their focus to the bush, whose leaves were riddled with holes from some nibbling insect. There was no hint of tension or surprise in their posture. Apparently pulling a blaster on them wasn’t enough to register him as a threat anymore. He should probably be insulted.

“Balazs.” 

“Hello Boba.” 

“I assume we’re here for the same thing?”

“...which would be...?” Lind asked, poking a bit further into the brush.

“Playing dumb doesn’t suit you. I know the client gave the Guild pucks for this bounty.” Lind sighed and stood up. Whatever they had been searching for must not have been there.

“You know I don’t do high profile jobs, Boba.” They gestured vaguely from his visor to his blaster. “Too much trouble.”

“You seem to like trouble well enough. This didn’t seem to bother you.” He nodded at the now lowered muzzle of his rifle. Lind shrugged.

“You weren’t gonna shoot me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Before I’m done with your upgrades? Unlikely. Speaking of, how is that new collar plate working out for you?” 

“Takes a little getting used to. The weight has been throwing off my aim.” He tapped his blaster. “You should be thankful this is set to stun. ”

“What did you expect? It’s beskar, not cheap durasteel.”

“The old one was very expensive durasteel.”

“Overpriced bantha dung. Anyway, enjoy the hunt. Try not to die this time.”

“It’s a big payout.”

“If you took it, then it must be.”

“I’d be willing to do sixty-forty.”

“What?” Seemed like he finally had their full attention.

“If you come with me.”

“Are you sick? Because it sounded like you just offered to share a bounty with me.”

“It’s practical. This mark isn’t going down easy, and you’re capable enough. I have another big job lined up, and I’m willing to take a pay cut if it means less time screwing around here.”

“Didn’t think you knew about sharing. For a guy with a million siblings you have the worst only child complex. Are you gonna let me play with your blaster too?”

“You have to know how that sounds.”

“I do now. I appreciate the offer, but I need to throw myself out an airlock into deep space now.”

“Our only competition is Dengar and some rookie.”

“Why don’t you just team up with Dengar? Don’t you two have history?”

“Did I not just say I wanted this job to be quicker and easier?”

“You’re being weirdly pushy about this.”

“You’re overthinking it.”

“You have to admit this is out of character. Are you planning to jump me when my back is turned? Finally turn me in for that pocket change?”

“Why do you always make things harder than they need to be?” Lind snorted at him.

“You’ve got some nerve getting on _my_ case about double entendres.”

“Shut up. Are you in or out?”

“I need to check with Tippi.” Lind activated their wrist mounted comm.

“Wanna call your clan leader for permission next? Or your mother?” They shushed him as Tippi answered.

“They aren’t out of stock, are they?”

“No. There’s plenty once I figure out _where_.” He was curious what they were after, but he didn’t like to indulge in curiosity when it didn’t affect his own bottom line. “Boba invited me over. Can I go play with him?”

“Do what you want. But you can do better.”

“Can you believe he offered to _share_ a bounty?”

“I am _hiring_ you as a subcontractor,” He interjected.

“Kinky,” Tippi snickered.

“Can you two at least pretend to be professional about this?” He huffed.

“Whatever. Just make sure you both wear protection.”

“Always. Lind out.”

***

Boba Fett was a man of few needs and even fewer wants. Get credits. Don’t die. As the years passed, he went through the same routine over and over. Hunt, catch, deliver. Rinse and repeat. He’d even occasionally been hunted himself for slights both real and imagined, professional and personal. It was a vicious cycle with no reward beyond credits and a morbid retirement plan.

He lived his life with the careful calculation of a hyperspace jump. It was safer not to introduce any new and unnecessary vectors. One wrong equation and he would be either dead or worse. Keep things simple. He had everything he needed. He was feared. His bank accounts were healthy. He was heavily scarred but alive. What more could he want?

It wasn’t that he’d never come over a little wistful at the sight of a family doing their shopping and recalled how it had felt to sprint across a rainy landing pad into his father’s waiting arms. Or caught a glimpse of a happy couple walking past and wondered what it would be like to have someone look at him as if there was no one else on the planet worth looking at. He was only human. It almost made him want more than what he had _._ Almost.

The harsh fact of it was he had worked both for and against people who wanted more and tried to do something about it. More money. More power. More love. A lot of them wound up dead, often at his hands. He’d spent too much time around Hutts, who liked to dangle whatever someone desired most over their head for the sheer entertainment value of sentient suffering. It never seemed worth it. Especially for the ones who did it for love. He’d been there himself once, and learned the hard way it was better to just turn away when those little desires popped up. That way lay trouble.

His only real goals were survival and living up to his father’s legacy as a bounty hunter. One day, he’d realized he hadn’t heard Jango’s name spoken in years. Most people didn’t even realize there had been another Fett before Boba. He’d not only caught up, but he’d surpassed Jango. 

Boba wondered if Jango would have been proud. It was impossible to know the feelings of a dead man, so Boba tried not to dwell on it. It was harder for him to avoid his own feelings. It was all starting to seem a bit pointless, and that worried him. If he lost his drive he was as good as dead and that was a major conflict with his only remaining goal; survival. He could always retire and find something else to do, but what else was there? Bounty hunting was all he’d ever known.

He tried to keep busy and avoid thinking about any of it when Lind jumped him on Nevarro. They could have saved them both some trouble and put him out of his misery right then and there. Plenty of lava flows to dump his body. They should have done it. He would have in their position. But they didn’t.

After he realized they weren’t going to be smart and kill him, he expected them to leave him to wallow in his defeat at the hands of a _real_ Mandalorian. Just as all the other Mandlaorians had done, or at least threatened to. 

Instead, Lind had nearly ripped his arm off, _apologized_ of all things, and then slipped him a traditional homemade remedy to ease his pain. Completely unprompted, they offered to do work for him that three other Mandalorian armorers, including their own grandmother, had beaten him bloody for requesting. Boba figured he should take advantage of the opportunity while he sorted out exactly what was wrong with them.

Boba and Lind may have both been bounty hunters in Mandalorian armor, but that’s about where the similarities ended. Lind didn’t have any particular ambition he could parse. Bounty hunting was just a means to an end, where it simply _was_ the end for Boba. They seemed most at ease when they were allowed to work their forge in peace, and Boba got the sense they’d prefer to stay there than hunt down a bail jumper. 

The deal they struck with Boba was incredibly lopsided. Lind had more to lose than to gain by continuing their association, yet they kept welcoming him back. They said they simply wanted to keep the peace with him for the sake of their covert, but Boba knew there was always an ulterior motive. It took longer than he’d like to admit to figure out their angle. Plain and simple, Lind was the type of schmuck who liked to help even if their expended energy was never repaid. 

Unless it offered some kind of material advantage for him, Boba liked to avoid that type of person. They tended to have an overbearing preoccupation with helping him change for the better. They could never accept that he didn’t need that kind of help. He was already the best.

Lind lacked that meddling quality. They didn’t try to recruit him to a cause or chase after him when he refused one of their helpful offers. They were kind without being cloying. They needled and teased him like he was just another member of their clan. Like a vod. Like he wasn’t mercenary enough to sell them and their entire covert out to the highest bidder if it suited him. 

As a trained armorer, Lind alone was worth a wild amount of credits to the right people. He could let them upgrade his armor and arsenal and then turn them in. He would never have to work again with that kind of pocket change. But then what? Retire? Start a garden? Lind was valuable to him in more types of currency than Imperial credits.

So he kept rendezvousing with their scrap heap of a ship. He let them make jokes at his expense. He sat and basked like a lizard in the heat of their forge and watched them work. It was almost cozy. He even let their chadra-fan pet live after she disrespected him numerous times. He suspected he wouldn’t be invited back if he killed her, and he didn’t like the idea of that. It didn’t occur to him that was a warning sign.

He eventually realized he had developed a complication. Boba _wanted_ something. He hadn’t wanted anything this badly in a very long time, and he wasn’t sure what to do with the urge. Based on past experience, it was risky and unlikely to end well but… he needed more information to truly weigh his options. 

He needed reasons to justify meeting with Lind, but he was running dangerously low on worn and broken equipment. He made an absolute ass of himself when he filed down the grip on a spare blaster. He decided it was better to just file the problem away for the time being. He was a busy man. 

Then Solo got lucky on Tatooine. Boba suddenly had one thousand years of free time inside the Great Pit of Karkoon. It was the opportunity he had been avoiding to re-evaluate his priorities in life. Eventually, he blasted his way out of the sarlacc and brutally maimed the jawa that tried to scavenge the shoulder bells Lind had made for him. 

As he trudged through the sand towards his ship, he found himself teetering on the edge of a very unadvisable decision about his new want. Jango probably would not have approved, but Boba was grown now. He didn’t need his father’s permission anymore.

When he next saw Lind, they seemed pleased with his survival. _Very_ pleased. So pleased they didn’t have a single pithy comment on the sorry state of his armor. 

He brought Lind the beskar ingots Darth Vader had paid him with on Cloud City. He watched them melt it down and make him a new set of breast plates. They were glorious. Radiant as they were haloed in a sudden burst of sparks from the forge. 

The breast plates, of course. He meant the breast plates. 

He was paying a painful sum for the work, but when Lind handed him those shiny new pieces of armor they felt like a gift.

On his way out, he was waylaid by the womp rat. She had been almost as acidic as the sarlacc but her goading words cemented his decision in a way the sarlacc couldn’t.

He wasn’t fooling anybody. The Republic fell. Now the Empire looked to be going the same way. Ewoks of all things. _Ewoks._ The galaxy was a chaotic place. Who knew when the next idiot would get lucky and end him for good, and then who would care he was gone? Well, plenty of people would care but they wouldn’t exactly be broken up about it. 

Life was short and meaningless. Why deny himself this one little thing? What was the worst that could happen? He’d already been publicly humiliated and eaten alive. If Lind stabbed him in the back, at least they were the type to stick around afterwards to help clean up. 

Boba liked to be organized. He started setting the first steps of a plan into motion. It was simple. Find a tempting job and ask Lind to join him. He wasn’t sure how else to spend time with them that didn’t involve a furry chaperone in the vents. _Little creep_. Nothing crazy, he’d thought. Show off a bit. Lay the groundwork. 

The next thing Boba knew, he had skipped at least five steps in what he could barely call a plan and was stark naked in a hotel room with an equally naked Lind. At least he assumed they were naked. Lind had turned off every light and drawn the black out curtains over the window before getting undressed. They’d fumbled their way through the darkness onto the bed, kneeled in front of one another, and...

“What now?” Lind asked him. 

Fek if he knew. He honestly hadn’t thought he’d get this far. Past experience said the next phase should probably involve one of them copping a feel. He was curious what was under their armor, but it had been a long time for him and this was a lot of trust he was being granted. He didn’t want to rush in too fast and ruin things. So maybe try words first.

“I wasn’t expecting your voice to sound like that without the vocoder,” he said. 

Not the best opening line for seduction, but it was true. Lind’s natural voice had a higher pitch than he was used to hearing. It was...

“I know. It’s shrill.” 

“I wouldn’t say that. You sound all… exposed.” 

He hoped that came off sexy and not incredibly lame. He’d always just let the mystique of his armor do the heavy lifting in the past, but as a full fledged Mandalorian, Lind was immune. He would have to rely on his own questionable charm. Force help him.

“I don’t like being exposed.”

“Then you should have left your armor on. _”_ He lowered his register. “ _Just_ the armor.” 

He cocked an eyebrow suggestively before he realized Lind couldn’t possibly see it. He was well out of his depth and floundering, but it was too late now. He’d committed to this, and he would see it through no matter how embarrassing things got.

He decided if he was giving into unwise impulse today, he might as well give into all of them. He ran his hands down their torso from chest to belly. Force, they were soft. He couldn’t remember the last time he touched something so soft. Kriff, should he tell them that? Would that be corny? He didn’t want to stop touching them. Why weren’t they touching him? 

He groped in the dark for a moment before he found their thin wrist. He pictured how that hand had looked shaping his breast plates as he brought it up and pressed it to his bare chest. He felt them trembling. Was that good or bad?

“You ok?”

“I always wanted a body like yours.” Their fingers barely grazed him. It took his short circuiting brain a moment to process what they had said.

“Like mine?” What did that mean? He hoped it meant he was their type. 

“You know. Solid. Strong.” Something was wrong. They sounded sad. 

“Lind? What is it?”

“I’m sorry.” Their voice hitched. He reached up and touched their face. Their cheek was wet. What had he done to make them cry?

“What the hell are you sorry for?”

“You don’t have to do this with me. You can find someone else. I know I’m not what you were expecting.”

“What I was expecting?” He reminded himself of a Kowakian monkey-lizard that repeats phrases it hears because it has nothing of value to say itself. Had they somehow been having different conversations? How could Lind think he didn’t want this?

“I don’t know. Something better.” Lind had stripped out of their armor and was permitting him to touch them. What could possibly be better than that? 

“You’re the softest thing I’ve ever felt.” He heard them inhale sharply, and the bed dipped as they moved away from him. It was the only thing he could think to say in the moment, but it was obviously the wrong thing. Why was it the wrong thing? 

“Lind, no that’s not- I didn’t mean-“ He hadn’t been this lost on what to do since he was a teenager. 

His hand found Lind’s knee. He managed to grab them around the waist and pull them back before they could make it all the way off the bed. For a moment he was worried they were going to fight him. Seeing them take down that sad little rookie had kicked off a course of events that led directly to this pitch black hotel room. Definitely hot, but he didn’t want that kind of ferocity turned against him when he wasn’t wearing body armor. An irrational part of his brain insisted if he could just hold them in place long enough it would all work out somehow. That’s how he usually won when they sparred at least.

“Lind…” He sounded winded, like he’d lost a fight. Maybe he had. “Lind.” He didn’t know what else to say. So he said it again to stall for time. “Lind.” He brought his other arm up to the back of their head and tightened his hold on their waist with the other. “Please.” He wasn’t sure what he was asking for. He just knew he wanted it very badly. 

He felt Lind’s body jerk like it didn’t know what direction to move in. Away? Towards? Then both their hands came up to his chest again. They weren’t pushing him away. That was good. 

“Lind,” he tried again. “I…” he paused and did some serious thinking about what he wanted to say. Maybe he should keep it simple. Harder to misinterpret. “I’m not disappointed. I like how you feel. I like how you sound. I like _you._ ” He stroked the back of their neck. 

That seemed to get through. Lind slumped against him. They pressed their face against his shoulder like they were hiding. They stayed that way for what felt like a long time to Boba. Finally, they spoke again.

“Some... people in the covert have said I’m like a poor quality alloy. Too soft. My grandmother said I was a vein of common metal in a mine of beskar ore. Deficient in spirit and body. She always reminded me how lucky I was that she accepted me as an apprentice.” Soft was definitely the wrong thing to say then. “No one looked at me until I entered my apprenticeship. It’s all I'm good for. Nobody argued with me to stay when I volunteered to be a runner.” 

“Anyone who believes that is a...” he couldn’t come up with a strong enough curse so he settled on a familiar one. “A di’kut. You’re more Mando than any of them.” Lind was what he’d always thought a Mandalorian _should_ be, at any rate. “Don’t go back next time they call you. Stay here. With me.” He felt warm tears trickling down his neck. “Kriff them. You don’t need those fekking pieces of-“

“They’re my people. They made me what I am. I _owe_ them-“

“You don’t owe them shit.” Anyone who didn’t value what they had didn’t deserve to have it.

“Boba,” Lind pulled back from his neck. Why had he been so against them saying his name again? He took the opportunity to touch their face with his hand. It was as close as he could get to seeing them. “Not everyone in the covert thinks that. My buir didn’t. The children. Especially the foundlings.” He felt their lips pull upward in a small smile when they mentioned the foundlings. He couldn’t help feeling a pinch of jealousy that smile wasn’t for him.

“Turn on the lights. Let me see your face.” _Be mine instead_ , he didn’t say.

“I can’t go back if I do that. I can’t put the armor back on. I can’t-“

“I still wear the armor. My father gave it to me. _You_ gave it to me. It’s mine. You made yours. It’s a part of you. They don’t get to tell us who we are.” Lind laughed at him. Better than crying.

“Didn’t take you for the inspirational speech type. This is the most I think I’ve ever heard you say in one go.”

“Lind, let me see you.”

“No, Boba.”

“Fine. Then let me kiss you.” 

He pressed his forehead to theirs in a helmetless Keldabe Kiss. He remembered the conversation with the chadra-fan. He hated to admit it, but she’d seen through him. Or smelled through him. However that worked. He’d been alone since he was ten. But not now. Not while he was breathing the same air as Lind.

He didn’t want whatever this was to stop even if they weren’t really his. They still belonged to their clan. Or to the rat. Tup? Tappy? It didn’t matter. He would take any part of them he could get right now. He could negotiate for more later. Maybe all of it one day. 

When Lind tilted their head and closed the space between their mouths his intestines felt like a lit fuse. He didn’t remember kissing being quite like this. He pressed in a little too aggressively, bending Lind backward with the unexpected force. Lind bit his lower lip fairly hard until he got the message to ease up. He’d mumbled an apology, and they eventually settled into a steady push and pull rhythm, moving together. Their hands had moved to his head, pulling him in closer. Not nearly close enough for his tastes. 

He’d done this before. He’d experimented. But he’d ultimately decided the vulnerability of involving another person wasn’t worth it. He had a nice scar on his back to remind him of that lesson. He could achieve the same result in the privacy of his own quarters by himself. To top it all off, there was absolutely no risk of anyone passing a remark about him being a clone. _If this doesn’t work out, I can always find another man just like you!_ That got old real fast.

As regrettable as some of his past experiences were, he was thankful for them now. He wasn’t sure what hardware Lind was working with, but he was reasonably sure he could get it done for them. Hopefully well enough that they’d let him do it again. 

Lind let out a surprised laugh and pulled away from him again. Kriff, what did he do this time? Couldn’t have been too wrong because their hands were still touching him. 

“I see I am still…” Lind paused in a way clearly meant to manufacture drama as their left hand suddenly dipped south. “...making things harder than they have to be.” 

He gasped as they made contact. Like the kissing, this, too, felt more intense than he remembered. He didn't have the accelerated aging process of his so-called ‘brothers’, but maybe his memory was starting to go. Or maybe it was just because this wasn’t some stranger he picked up in a cantina. This was Lind.

“Are you gonna let me play with your blaster, Boba?” He groaned. Partially because yes, he absolutely _was_ going to let them do that. But mostly it was in bone deep annoyance.

“Do we really need the innuendos when you’ve got your hand on my _HNG-_ “

Fine. If that’s how they wanted to do things. He leaned all his weight forward, and Lind let him press them backwards onto the bed in an ironic echo of their first meeting.

“Quit messing around,” he growled. “I got a job to do.”

There was an awful lot of awkward fumbling and they both had to ask for directions several times but they eventually got where they were going. 

It would have been an embarrassing performance by his usual standard, but they had both been laughing so hard. He’d never laughed during sex. He’d been too concerned with maintaining his cool and dangerous image since his partner was definitely going to blab about it later. Hells, he hadn’t laughed like that at all in… he wasn’t sure. Had he ever? He must have. Probably when Jango was still alive.

Whatever Lind’s hang ups were, they seemed mostly forgotten in the afterglow. The two of them were a strange knot made of limbs. His head rested in the crook of their neck and shoulder, and their cheek was pressed against his temple. It was going to be a mess figuring out how to unravel it all, but in that moment, Lind was relaxed and so was he. They didn’t have to do anything about it right now. He thought lying there with them might actually be better than any of the sex he’d had. Ever. Sum total. 

He hated to ruin it by talking. His track record that day of saying things that upset Lind had been truly spectacular. But a persistent thought was starting to chip away at his mellowed mood.

“Lind.”

“Yeah?”

“About what you said earlier.”

“We both said a lot of things earlier. Be more specific.”

“About them calling you soft.” Their hand, which had been tracing his clavicle, stilled. “They weren’t armorers, were they?”

“No. Fighting corps mostly. There was one girl I really liked when I was a kid. Tir. She was popular. Talented. You remind me of her a little. I could never pin her in hand to hand.”

“Well you got _me_ pinned just fine.”

“Di’kut.” Lind smacked his shoulder, then their tone turned serious again. “She’s the one who said it to my face first. I finally worked up the courage to tell her how much I admired her, and she laughed at me. She said no one would ever want someone soft like me. I cried in front of the whole training group. Sort of proved her point for her.” 

Boba digested that for a minute. He didn’t like that he reminded Lind of Tir. It wasn’t a very flattering comparison. On the other hand, he could see himself at that age saying the same things to a young, sensitive Lind. 

He wasn’t that stupid kid anymore. He wondered if Tir had learned the same hard lessons. What would she think of Lind now? He mostly hoped she wasn’t thinking anything at all. Dead in a gutter somewhere would suit Boba fine. He didn’t like having competition. 

He lifted his head and tried to pull himself up so he could at least pretend to look Lind in the face. They shifted to accommodate his new position. He was about to enter a minefield of rejection issues, and he hoped it would be worth the risk. 

“A lot of people have tried to kill me.”

“Can’t imagine why.”

“Can you be serious for a minute?”

“Fine. Chronometer is ticking.”

“I used to think there were just two kinds of people in this galaxy. The strong and the weak. But I noticed the people that always got closest to killing me were all like you. You _are_ soft, Lind.” 

They froze up again. 

“Was that a neg? Because the sex we just had doesn’t have to happen again _ever_.” At least they weren’t trying to make a run for it again. He pressed on.

“Soft isn’t the same as weak. You’re an armorer. You know the value of a flexible alloy that adapts to pressure without being brittle.”

“I appreciate your dedication to this metaphor.”

“What I’m trying to get at is they took your measure wrong. Can’t fly a freighter the same way as a fighter.” He didn’t think he’d said anything particularly funny but Lind gave a soft laugh. “I never know how far people like you are willing to go. You’ve got no cost-benefit analysis. Like a mudhorn. You just charge until one of us is dead.”

“Your pillow talk needs work.” Sarcastic but much less angry. He must be getting better at all this feelings talk. His father always said he could accomplish whatever he set his mind to. Although he was pretty sure his father had been referring to killing and not kissing. Who knows? A lot of his father’s lessons had unexpected applications.

“I don’t get a lot of practice with it.”

“Like your Rising Phoenix techniques.”

“Hey.”

They leaned over and pecked him on the mouth. A clear message. No harm meant. “I’m surprised though.”

“About what?”

“That there’s pillow talk at all. You seem like the ‘use ‘em and lose ‘em’ type. No offense.” Boba straightened up a little.

“ _That’s_ what you thought this was?”

“I mean… yeah.”

“Why the hell did you agree to it?”

“I like you. I wasn’t sure I’d get another opportunity before you got yourself blown up or eaten alive again.”

“That was a _fluke_. Lay off. Between you and Tappy-”

“Tippi.”

“Whatever.”

“Not whatever.” There was steel in their voice. “She’s the most important person in the galaxy to me.” He felt a fresh wave of jealousy. “You want this to happen again?”

“Very much.” 

“Then you better play nice with her.”

“You two don’t…” Boba wasn’t sure if there was a respectful way to phrase his question. “...not like us? Right?”

“How would that even work?”

“It works. Knew a guy who was into chadra-fans. He said what you do is-” 

“I know we’re being all open with our feelings but that’s a little too open for me. Me and Tippi aren’t like that. She’s like....” Lind hesitated a moment. “It feels sort of disloyal to my clan but… Tippi is like my family.” Jealousy again. So so so much jealousy. “I want you to be my family, too.” 

That was it. That was the new want he had chased here. Boba hadn’t been part of a family since the battle on Geonosis. He’d faced down rancors and madmen, even Darth Vader. But he’d never had the courage to even consider he could be part of a family again. He still wasn’t sure he could. But if it was with Lind… a memory flashed through his head but it was off. The helmet arcing across the arena had a very different but equally familiar paint job than he remembered. Blue and gold.

Nope. Not dealing with that right now.

“I still won’t be your vod.” 

“Not even for the vod discount?”

“You do good work. You need to stop giving it away. Your prices are criminally low. Besides,” he pressed their foreheads together. “Vode don’t do what we just did. You really didn’t see this coming?”

“Not at all.”

“Tup- uh, Tippi saw it coming.”

“She’s smart like that.”

“You thought about it though, right? Being so friendly. The jokes.”

“That was just banter. I didn’t think this was ever a possible option so I just never bothered seriously thinking about it.” His pride stung.

“Not even one secret shameful fantasy?”

“No.”

“I thought about it,” He grumbled. 

“It’s not as if I didn’t think you were attractive.” Boba didn’t know if Lind was attractive. Frankly, he didn’t care. “Why get myself worked up over someone I was never going to have a chance with?”

“You’re a di’kut,” he said. “No ambition at all.” 

Lind shrugged.

“Egomania is your department.” No argument for that one.

“This is why you’re still hunting little league and I’m number one. If I left it up to you we’d be dancing around each other forever. Good thing I decided to track you down today.”

“I thought you were here for the job?”

“Only because I thought _you_ were, too.”

“You planned this?”

“Well the part about hunting with you. This,” he patted the bed, “was not part of the plan.”

“You could have just called if you wanted to see me. You have my comm channel.”

“You’re too thorough. Nothing needed maintenance.”

“Is that why your equipment breaks so often? I thought you were just careless.”

“You don’t survive as long as I have in this business being careless.”

“ _You’re_ the di’kut.” Lind gave his shin a small kick. “You don’t need a reason to comm me. I wouldn’t exactly have called this relationship professional even before we ended up here.”

“I guess. Professional is the only kind of relationship I’ve had for a long time.”

“You must have had a friend once?”

“Once. When I was a kid. Didn’t last long. We betrayed each other. Relationships are mostly a matter of who currently does or does not want me dead.”

“That’s… sad.”

“It is what it is.”

“No romantic partners?”

“Not in a long time and never serious. Had a few real slutty years when I was younger. Got over it. You?”

“Flirting mostly. There was a girl who worked at a fueling station I saw for a few months not long after I left the covert. She was so nice to me at first. She didn’t like that my flight suits were padded.”

“Why? It’s practical. Protects what the armor doesn’t cover.”

“I think she only really liked my armor. What was underneath could never really live up to it.”

“Bucket chaser. I’ve had my share. There’s a whole subculture. No one at the covert warned you before you left?”

“No. I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway. It was so nice at first. Being wanted.” Lind sounded sad again. Boba was struggling to string together some kind of comforting sentence when they reached up and ran a hand over his hair. “Thank you, Boba.” This conversation was impossible to anticipate, and it was starting to give him a headache.

“For bringing up yet another painful topic? You’re so welcome.” 

“For hunting me down.”

“I pointed a charged blaster at your head, Lind.” 

“Didn’t you say it was set to stun? I did that to you on Bespin, and it definitely _wasn’t_ set to stun. You just squared us. It was probably the sweetest thing you could have done.”

“...threatening to shoot you… was sweet?”

“Not that! Coming to find me. There’s not a lot of people who think I’m worth chasing after.” 

“There’s probably more than you think.”

“That’s ominous coming from you.”

“Speaking of… I hate to say it, but you should probably comm your partner before she sends someone after you.” Lind shot up. 

“OH NO.” Boba felt like they’d just dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. He tried to remember where he’d dropped his holster. It wasn’t like him to leave it out of immediate reach but he’d been a little distracted.

“What is it??”

“Katydids!” 

“What?”

“Tippi’s katydids! I still need to pick some up!” Boba groaned. There he was, ready to fight off an assailant with only the equipment he’d been born with, and Lind was just overreacting about a forgotten errand. Not even an important errand. Chandrilan katydids were a popular insectivore snack food.

“It’s not late,” he said as he tried to ease them back down into the bed. He’d paid for three hours, and he liked to get his money’s worth. “I’m sure the shop is still open.”

“What shop?” Boba had a sinking feeling as he remembered the bush they’d been inspecting earlier.

“Lind… where exactly are you planning to get these bugs?”

“The usual places. The ground. Bottoms of leaves.”

“Force’s sake.” 

Lind scrambled over him in search of their flight suit.

“I helped you with your hunt. Now help me with mine. Fifty should probably do it.” 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Count it towards your Whistling Birds.”

“Fifty you said?”

***

Tippi was waiting for Lind at the top of the Revenant’s cargo ramp. 

“Well you sure took your sweet time.” She said as Lind handed her the twitching bag of katydids. She plucked one out and popped it into her mouth. Crunchy. “Did your little friend play nice?” 

Lind’s nervous system was suddenly flooded with a powerful cocktail of hormones that Tippi had long ago identified as embarrassment. Interesting. A little alarming. 

“Tippi, hypothetically speaking, would you be mad if I did something a little stupid?”

“You do stupid things all the time. But _hypothetically speaking_ would this particular stupid thing have an attitude problem and wear a green helmet?” 

“Funnily enough, yes.” Tippi’s ears flattened backwards in a clear sign of intense displeasure. “Tippi? Please say something.”

“Give me a minute. I need to get through all the stages of grief before I respond.” Lind watched as Tippi nabbed another katydid and took her time chewing. “Exactly _how_ stupid did it get?” 

Lind fiddled uncomfortably with one of the ammo pods on their belt.

“Full contact kind of stupid. Helmets off.” They were quick to add, “No visual though!” 

“Lind, what the hell happened to our no kissing the clients policy?”

“We have policies?”

“Well I thought it should go without saying but here we are! Do I have to balance the books for his shiny new vod discount? Which you need to stop offering people by the way! You deserve credits for your hard work.”

“He actually agrees with you. He said he’s still not accepting it.”

“Hm. Maybe his bucket isn’t as empty as I thought. Was he… good?”

“TIPPI.”

“No! Force no, not like _that_! I just meant did he treat you well?”

“He... played very nice. We talked more than anything else. I didn’t know he knew that many words.” Tippi snorted. “He was very sweet actually.”

“ _Sweet? Our_ Boba??? Are you sure he wasn’t concussed?” 

“He said my alloy was flexible.” Tippi smelled a fresh rush of embarrassment hormones.

“If that’s a Mandalorian euphemism I don’t want to know any more.”

“It means he likes me. Not my armor or the things I make. _Me.”_

“Do you like _him_? Or just how he makes you feel?”

Lind was quiet for a long moment.

“It happened so fast. I’m still processing it all.” They sat down on the ramp next to Tippi. “We turned in the merchandise and then he just grabbed my shoulder and gave me a Keldabe Kiss. You know, the head bonk of affection. Really hard too. I thought he was attacking me at first.”

“Well that explains it. You were both concussed.”

“ _Tippi.”_

“Sorry, sorry. I thought he’d be a little more of a smooth operator than that honestly.”

“Right?”

“So you finally gave in to all that smoldering sexual tension?”

“We had sexual tension?”

“You really didn’t notice?”

“Like I told Hondo. I didn’t think I was his type. I knew it would hurt if I thought about it. I just repressed it all, I guess.”

“I’ve told you that’s a bad habit.”

“I had him in a headlock and the next thing I know he’s asking me if I want to get a hotel room together and I’m saying yes and our armor is all over the floor-“

“So you guys _do_ take your armor off for it.”

“Tippi, how did you think it worked?”

“You know. Clang clang?”

“Really, Tippi?”

“You kiss by banging your helmets together. What was I supposed to think? But wow. You actually took your armor off? All of it? I didn’t think you ever did that outside your own quarters.” Tippi sat down next to Lind with a loud plonk. “That’s… you were really vulnerable. It took grievous bodily harm for you to let me be in the same room when your helmet was off. And you’ve never seemed too interested in… uh… _full contact_ before either.”

“I don’t _not_ like it? He sure seemed into it though.”

“He didn’t push you for it, did he?”

“It was my choice. I just remembered how it felt when I thought he was dead... I figured this might be my only chance to get close so I should just get what I could. I didn’t want to live with that regret again.” Lind dropped their helmet into their hands. “Tippi, it was awful.” 

Tippi perked up.

“You mean he’s bad in the sack?”

“TIPPI, NO. Well... I don’t think so? That part seemed fine once it actually happened.”

“So what was so awful?”

“I got all insecure after the armor came off. Then he said something about me being soft. I think he meant it as a compliment. I just broke down. I cried on him like an infant. Told him about the covert and Tir. The girl at the fuel station, too. I thought he was gonna bail but… he said I wasn’t weak. He actually got mad about it. Mad for my sake. Remember when I told you? You got mad like that too.” They sat together in silence for a while. “Tippi, I do like him. So much.”

“Yeah, you really do. But that doesn’t mean I’m getting chummy with him.”

“He’s very good at kissing.” Apparently Lind was a fan of at least a little contact. Tippi scoffed. How many people had Lind even kissed? One? Maybe two?

“I think his kissing gave you brain damage. If he steps out of line I am taking him out at the knees.”

“Thank you, Tippi.”

“I mean it. I will gnaw him apart with my teeth if he tries to hurt you.” Tippi bared her fangs for emphasis before emphatically chomping the head off a katydid. “You aren’t moving in with him right?”

“Of course not. He’s moving in with us.”

“WHAT?” A bit of katydid slipped down Tippi’s airway. Lind patted her back while she hacked it back up. Finally, through tears and intermittent coughs, she managed, “That was really mean and not funny.”

“It was a little bit funny.”

***

A few weeks later, Tippi answered a call on the main comm channel. 

“Fett, what an unwanted surprise. Don’t you use Lind’s direct channel now that the two of you are bonking buckets?”

“You’re the one I need to talk to.”

“Me? What could you possibly need to talk to me for? I pray for your gruesome death each night cycle before I go to sleep.”

“One day I am gonna use you for target practice. But today I need your advice.”

“What for?”

“Are there any flowers Lind likes?”

“Flowers? What the hell for?”

“A gift. That’s something people do, right? I need ideas.”

“Flowers. What the hell kind of holodramas are you watching?”

“Dengar suggested it.”

“Dengar is a known idiot.”

“He’s got a wife.”

“ _He’s_ married? Has she not seen him somehow? Is she in a medically induced coma?”

“There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s a dancer. Pretty. Smart. He must be doing something right because she genuinely likes him.”

“Well I’ll be damned. Look, I was successfully wooed once.”

“How’d they manage it while in a medically induced coma?”

“I hope your death is long and painful. Let me level with you. It’s not about the flowers. It’s the thought behind it.”

“No shit. I figured that out on my own. Give me a little credit.”

“Just rule flowers out completely. Lind’ll just ignore them until they start to rot and then ask me if something smells funny. If you want to give them a gift, do something practical.”

“Again, I’m not stupid. Specific suggestions would be ideal.” 

“Ok. Uh…how about… no, no... hm.” Tippi’s fingers drummed against the console. “Maybe… ah kriff, they already have that. Um…”

“Not so kriffing easy, is it?”

“If you’re gonna be a smug bastard about it I’ll disconnect.”

“ _Sorry.”_ He did not sound very sorry.

“Why the sudden need for a romantic gesture? Did you do something?” Tippi inhaled sharply in excitement. “Was it bad?? Are they gonna be so mad they break it off with you?”

“Simmer down. We’re getting on fine. It’s just…” he was clearly debating what he was about to tell her. “They gave me uj‘alayi.”

“Oh, yeah. They gave me some too. Their sister makes it when they visit and Lind always brings some back. You know Lind doesn’t expect any kind of payment right? It’s not a transaction.”

“I know. It just brought back a memory.”

“A good memory?”

“My father used to make me uj cake. For my birthday.”

“It makes me remember stuff like that too. It’s bittersweet. All that fruit syrup definitely helps the bitterness.”

“It does.”

“I love Lind a lot,” she said.

“...yeah.”

“I’ll kill you if you hurt them.”

“I’ll let you.”

“Good. Glad we understand each other.”

He nodded. Tippi looked at the discarded plate on the dashboard. There was a trace of syrup still on it. 

“If I come up with anything, I know your frequency. Tippi out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack  
> Way Out There by Lord Huron  
> Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths  
> Stripped by Depeche Mode, but played on a Kazoo  
> Disarm by Smashing Pumpkins


	7. Nothing Personal

“I do not need to stress the importance of this mission to you, Lind,” Sasch’s flickering blue projection said. “This could secure not only our future, but that of all we hold sacred. I know you will not fail us.” Sasch didn’t wait for a response as the signal cut out. It wasn’t technically needed, but Lind would have liked a little more reassurance. This was unlike any other mission Lind had ever undertaken. They didn’t share Sasch’s faith. 

Grandmother had decided it was time to start testing the waters around the fledgling New Republic. With the Empire dying, it could be time for the Mandalorians to return home. She wanted Lind to make a tentative overture to Princess Leia Organa. If anyone would be sympathetic to the near obliteration of their culture it would be the Alderaani princess.

If all went according to plan and the coverts disbanded, there would be no more need for runners. Lind would be out of a job. The thought of not being needed by their people was both painful and alluring. They would miss being treated as a valued asset, but it also meant no one would care what they did or where they went. Or who they were with.

It would be welcome news for Tippi, but especially for Boba. Fewer Mandos abroad meant less competition for him, but it would also mean unfettered access to Lind. The Emperor may have been dead, but the remnants of his legacy and government were still a threat. After the job of Chandrila, Lind had overheard rumors that Boba had picked up a Mandalorian partner. Since then, they refused to hunt with him. Boba was none too pleased by this development, but working openly with him was an immediate boost to any hunter’s rep, which Lind needed like a hole in the helmet. 

It wasn’t that he was looking to take Lind on as a permanent business partner. Boba was a creature of habit and had always preferred the simplicity of being a one man operation. That hadn’t changed. However, the occasional job with Lind was his interpretation of going out for a nice date. 

Even though he knew the answer would be no, Boba insisted on dangling potential tandem jobs in front of Lind’s visor. It wasn’t that the offers were unappealing. Lind appreciated their time together just as much as he did. No reputations or duties to maintain, no heavy expectations. The occasional kissing wasn’t so bad either. 

Boba seemed to enjoy visiting them on the Revenant well enough, but he got antsy when he didn’t have an immediate course of action in front of him. Lind suspected being unoccupied gave him too much time for self reflection. He’d rather chase a bounty than let his personal demons chase him. Lind wondered about the exact nature of those demons, but they never asked. It wasn’t their business. He deeply valued his privacy, and Lind was learning to read between the lines.

Boba generally returned the favor. He didn’t pry about the covert or Lind’s missions. Much. Lind hoped it was at least partially out of respect, but they knew it was more likely because Mandalorian business wasn’t particularly profitable for him. On a professional level, they were neither a significant benefit nor threat. On a personal level, they were a sore subject.

Aside from their treatment of Boba himself, he was deeply embittered by his father’s expulsion from the creed. It all culminated in a complete lack of trust in Mandalorians as a whole. He felt the covert was taking advantage of Lind’s loyalty. They tried to gently remind him that they’d volunteered to take risks as a runner, but Boba was incapable of being objective. 

It frustrated Lind, but they tried not to hold it against him. Privately, they agreed that the Fetts’ exile had been unjustified. Grandmother was a strong leader, but she had a vengeful streak a parsec long. They couldn’t fault Boba’s resentment over that. Even if Jango had deserved his punishment, Boba didn’t. Grandmother and the other Mandalorians had deemed him unworthy at birth, with no chance at redemption.

Boba insisted he had never been interested in being part of a larger group. Lind could believe that about the Bounty Hunter’s Guild or the clone army, but not the Mandalorians. Lind wasn’t sure whether he was just lying to them or to himself as well.

Since Chandrila, there had been a handful of rare, vulnerable moments when Boba had asked to see Lind’s face again. He’d shrug it off later, claiming it was just heat of the moment nonsense. He understood the gravity of that request, and didn’t actually expect Lind to compromise their values for him. 

Even so, Lind suspected a part of him did mean it. His neutral mask had slipped the first time they’d had to cut his visit short because Sasch commed with new mission details. For a brief moment, he looked like a tooka left out in the rain. He’d finally gotten ahold of the acceptance he’d craved for so long, but the Mandalorians could still withhold even that scrap. It was only natural Boba begrudged their claim on Lind’s time and attention. 

Lind decided the details of their mission fell into the category of Boba Doesn’t Need to Know. They didn’t want to get his hopes up. Or their own for that matter.

Lind straightened up in their seat. Who knew how much longer the political struggle would last? Years? Decades? There was no point dwelling on things they couldn’t know or change. It was time to work. 

They activated the holonet, looking for reports of a specific Corellian freighter. Han Solo was rumored to have a very personal connection with Leia Organa, and therefore seemed like a good place to start. He was something else to be filed under Boba Doesn’t Need To Know. Solo wasn’t nearly as sore a subject as the Mandalorians, but he still got a little surly when the smuggler was brought up.

They finally hit paydirt when they asked Kalypso to check her wide network of contacts in the smuggling business. Apparently, Solo had put out word that he was looking for some extra muscle on an upcoming job. Given his newfound status of war hero and relationship with a major political figure, Lind was surprised Solo was still in the sordid business. Maybe he was like Boba who only seemed to know how to do one thing with his time. Hobbies were apparently a foreign concept. Either way, it gave Lind a perfect opportunity to establish contact.

Unfortunately, Kalypso’s glowing endorsement hadn’t included a physical description. Solo shot them right in the breastplate when they entered the docking bay for the interview. Ironically, he had mistaken them for Boba. Lind wasn’t sure if the man was stupid or color blind, but at least he was a good shot. Lind was knocked off their feet and had to take cover behind a shipping crate. They got their vengeance with a stun blast on the second volley. 

Solo’s first mate, Chewbacca, was much more agreeable. He had formally hired Lind by the time Solo woke up. They were both good company, though Lind strongly preferred the Wookiee. Out of the two, he had never shot Lind nor had he nearly cost them someone precious.

It was a simple job. They picked up their cargo and left the small moon behind as they soared into the black void. Then a very familiar ship dropped out of hyperspace with guns blazing.

“Chewbacca, I need you to hail the Slave I! Give me the comm!” Lind couldn't help feeling betrayed even though there was no way Boba could know they were on board anymore than they could have known he’d take such a low profile assignment. This was just a munitions run for a small local gang. The Guavian Death Gang was trying to edge out its competition in the sector so their employer needed any edge they could get. This should have been well below Boba’s notice. Lind must have misjudged how many credits the Guavians had if they could afford his rates. Maybe he had gotten bored between jobs again. They really needed to talk about him picking up a damn hobby.

Chewbacca wailed at them and Lind scanned the translation running down the display in their visor.

“Maybe he can’t be reasoned with, but I have leverage. Solo! Stop firing!” Lind’s stomach clenched as another blast from the Falcon’s cannon glanced off Boba’s shields. 

“ _Stop_ firing? Do you know who that is?” Solo yelled over the intercomm.

“Trust me.”

The outgoing comm system crackled as the frequency connected and Boba’s voice echoed through the cockpit.

“Give it up, Solo.” 

“Does that line _ever_ work?” Lind snapped. “ _Di’kut_ ,” they added for good measure.

Chewie whined and cocked his head. This was clearly not the negotiation tactic he was expecting.

“Lind? What-“ The Falcon rocked and alarms blared as a blast from the Slave I hit the Falcon's hull. The pair of tacky golden Sabacc dice hanging above the console jangled. “Fek! I didn’t mean to- What the kriff are you doing on that piece of junk?”

“Reminds me of my own piece of junk. I work here now.”

“With _Solo_?!” He sounded mad. Lind wasn’t the only one feeling unreasonably betrayed. Good. “Fine. Whatever. I have a job to do, too. This isn’t personal, Balazs” 

“Fett, don’t you dare-“ He cut the comms. “That _utter_ \- Chewie! Evasive maneuvers! Solo, do you copy? Quit trying to take out his cockpit. Aim for the stabilizer fins. He can’t fire on us if he has to fly with both hands.” They needed backup.

Lind inputted a code into the short range transmitter on their gauntlet. Seconds after the transmission was received they heard Tippi’s voice in their helmet.

“You sure about a sand snake strike on your sweet boy?”

Lind muted their external vocoder amp so Chewbacca couldn’t hear their reply.

“Just make sure you miss his life support. You know the drill. Wait for your moment. Be quick.” 

Lind wished they had a moment to really admire the way Boba handled his ship. They admired the way he handled a lot of things. Lind knew he was flying with one hand almost literally behind his back at times so he could access his secondary console meant for a copilot. His traditional Mandalorian training may have been incomplete, but there were three of them on the Falcon and they were barely keeping up with him. It was unbelievable none of the clans had tried to bring him back into the fold. He truly had the spirit of Kad Ha’rangir, the destroyer god. If Kad Ha’rangir had Boba Fett’s face, Lind would reconsider their agnosticism. They wondered how long they’d last if he stopped holding back. 

Thrilling as the chase was, Lind couldn’t shake their worry. Boba was dedicated to his work, but Lind was reasonably sure he wouldn’t actually kill them over it. He might kill Solo, which would make Lind’s life much more difficult. Worse, Solo might kill Boba. Even if it wasn’t intentional, accidents happened and they were both using live rounds. Thank the Force he had agreed to let Tippi upgrade the shields on his cockpit. But if Solo got another lucky hit in…

Just then, Solo whooped in victory. He’d scored that lucky hit. Lind frantically swivelled their seat to check the scopes, but it appeared things were on the right side of lucky this time. Solo had damaged one of Boba’s stabilizer fin struts like Lind had instructed. Not serious, but enough to keep Boba distracted.

Lind watched as a second ship suddenly registered as if from nowhere. The Revenant, which had been shadowing the Falcon since they’d left atmo, had materialized on the Slave I’s starboard side. Tippi had spotted her moment. If Lind could see the Revenant that meant Tippi had already used one of the beskar tipped fins to pierce Boba’s hull by the magazine that housed his primary shield generator. Decloaking meant Tippi was physically close enough to the other ship to risk damaging the cloaking device’s delicate external sensor arrays. Normally, she wouldn’t have risked exposing herself that way, but those arrays were a real bitch to source replacement parts for. As suddenly as it had appeared, the Revenant dropped out of sight again. It was over in seconds. If Lind hadn’t known to watch for it they might have written it off as a glitch. Force knew the Falcon had plenty of glitches.

Lind sent another quick coded transmission to Tippi. _Stay with Boba._ They weren’t sure how quickly he would recover, but they didn’t want to risk him being caught by another enemy while the Slave I was crippled.

“Punch it, Chewbacca!” Lind ordered. They were sick of this job and wanted to be done with it as soon as possible. The stars seemed to stretch as the Falcon jumped to the safety of hyperspace.

“What the hell was that?” Solo yelled as he scrambled down the ladder from the cannon turret. “Did you see that, Chewie?” Chewbacca warbled a negative. He’d been too busy piloting to take note of the blip that had been the Revenant.

“It was a good shot, Solo.” Lind said.

“Damn straight, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I had a visual on something.” _Uh oh._ Lind and Tippi had agreed long ago that as few people as possible should know the Revenant’s true capabilities. Tippi had been livid when Boba sniffed out their unsanctioned cloaking device. Lind wouldn’t have peace for at least a week if Solo figured it out. “Just a second but my eyesight is pretty damn good.”

Chewie warbled, _Maybe it was an asteroid._

“Asteroid my ass! It disappeared so fast it was hard to get a good look, but I think it was a ship.”

“Maybe it was a ghost,” Lind shrugged. Chewie let out a barking laugh. “This sector is known for spooky things like that.”

“I’ve seen some wild stuff,” Solo said, “but a ghost couldn’t tear a hole in that bastard’s hull.”

“I guess even ghosts don’t like him. Boba Fett isn’t exactly the friendliest guy.”

Chewie warbled thoughtfully at Lind, _He seemed pretty friendly with you._ Aw kriff. 

“Yeah he did, didn’t he?” Solo said, suddenly suspicious. “He called you by your given name, buckethead. What are you doing on a first name basis with a barve like that, huh?” 

He folded his arms and leaned against the door frame like he was trying to trap Lind in the cockpit but didn’t want to be obvious about it. They were in hyperspace. Where did he think they were going to go? 

“We’ve had... dealings.” Solo quirked an eyebrow.

“I thought you Mandos didn’t like him.”

“It was practical. Like he said, it’s not personal.” Chewbacca howled again.

“Yeah, Chewie’s right. He sounded pretty… _personal_.” Lind leaned back in the copilot’s seat trying to look nonchalant. 

“What are you two implying?”

“Why didn’t you want me aiming at his cockpit?” Solo demanded.

“That’s where he is likely to have heaviest shielding. You were wasting those shots.”

“How do you know how many hands he flies with?”

“Because I can count. Does it look like he’s hiding an extra set of arms in his flight suit? Do you think he’s secretly a besalisk under the helmet?”

“Well ha ha, aren’t you funny!” Solo growled but didn’t seem to have any follow up questions.

“If you say so,” Lind shrugged and made themselves busy checking the instruments. Back to business. Nice safe business. “We should make the rendezvous more or less on time. Maybe a little on the less side now. Let’s not wait around after the hand off. If Boba knew where we were leaving from he might be able to guess our destination.”

“If I’d hit _Boba_ in the cockpit it wouldn’t matter.” Oops. Damn that first name basis.

***

Boba did eventually show up at their rendezvous point on an old Clone Wars era medical station, but his employers got there first. Apparently, his job hadn’t been to catch them so much as delay them until the Guavians could arrive for their ambush. 

Lind had just driven a vibroblade through the cybernetic heart of one of the Guavian’s grunts when Boba burst in, jetpack and guns blazing. Was it unnecessarily dramatic? Definitely. Was Lind unironically into it? Very much so.

“Time to bail!” Solo had shouted over the chaos. He’d had the good sense to demand payment before handing over the goods. With the case of credits clutched in one hand and the other hand firing his blaster with pinpoint accuracy, Lind could see how he might be capable of getting the drop on Boba. 

No matter how good a shot Solo was, it looked like the Guavian Death Gang was the new controlling power in this system’s criminal underworld. Time to bail indeed.

Either Boba was slipping or he hadn’t been paid to chase them after they’d made their delivery. They were able to board the Falcon and escape the gang war with minimal interference. Lind was both disappointed and relieved they hadn’t come helmet to helmet with Boba. They didn’t need any more suspicions raised about the nature of their relationship, but this was also the closest they had physically been to each other in weeks. Calls on the comm just weren’t quite the same when they couldn’t reach out and smack his helmet. Lind missed him. 

They parted on good terms with Chewie and Solo on the same moon where they had been hired. Han was still a little leery, but Chewie insisted he had a good feeling about Lind. There was an exchange of contact information and promise of future work. Sasch would be pleased.

Tippi sent them the coordinates of the hangar where she was servicing a very angry Boba’s ship. Gone was the confident, collected bounty hunter mowing down his opponents with practiced ease. Their sneak attack had embarrassed him, and he was not handling it well. In front of Solo of all people! Did they want to make him the laughingstock of the bounty hunting business? _AGAIN_?? He was still hearing new sarlacc jokes. 

As if Boba hadn’t been the reason for Lind ‘s own bad day.

“Solo is real handy with that DL-44,” Lind commented with as much acide as they could. “ _Very_ charming.” Boba’s shoulders were tensed so hard in barely contained rage that his pauldrons were practically brushing the undersides of his helmet’s ear caps. “...and so _Tall_.” It was a low blow. One of the many things Boba would never admit to being sensitive over was his very average height.

“Lind, stop teasing him.” Tippi said. “I think I can see steam coming out of his vents. He’s gonna pressure cook himself.” 

“He deserves it after what he pulled! _Nothing personal._ ” They tried to give him a shove to further illustrate their irritation but he barely even swayed.

“Can you two please just go do _nothing personal_ somewhere else? I’m trying to work here.”

As they climbed to ladder to his bunk level, Boba presented Lind with terms to absolutely never work with Solo again. Even if they hadn’t had direct orders, Lind would have refused on principle. Boba was used to calling the shots, but Lind wasn’t interested in being dictated to. They already had a bossypants alor’ad. 

By the time they got to his quarters, Boba had conceded the argument. It took a little prodding but he admitted he’d overreacted, and Lind hadn’t deserved his scolding. Lind was ready to be satisfied with that, but apparently Boba was in a candid mood for once. He’d been jealous that Lind had chosen to work with Solo over him. To his mind, Solo had beaten him on Tatooine, ergo, Solo would be a more appealing partner. And not just in business. 

He felt foolish for picking a childish fight out of insecurity, and Lind felt a bit guilty for their own show of pettiness. As a peace offering, Lind admitted that they weren’t into guys like Solo, no matter how tall or good a shot. In all honesty, they weren’t that into guys in general. Boba was a special case. 

“I like being special,” Boba grinned, hooking a finger into Lind’s girth belt and trying unsuccessfully to urge them closer.

“A special di’kut,” Lind muttered as they removed his hand. 

“Still special. I’ll take it,” he replied much too smugly for a man who had just been insulted. He tried to chuck their chin under the lip of their helmet but they swatted his hand away. It had been a long day and they were too tired to deal with flirting. 

They both managed to cram into Boba’s narrow bunk. They usually spent their nights together in Lind’s roomier bunk, but Boba didn’t want to leave Tippi alone on the Slave I. His trust in her was still tentative, and the ship was the closest thing he had to a home. 

No matter how much they teased Tippi with the possibility, Lind and Boba never intended to consolidate their operations. Tippi and the Revenant were as much Lind’s home as the Slave I was Boba’s. Besides, they both enjoyed their independence and the option of solitude. 

That being said, Lind was happy to be near Boba again regardless of the reunion’s less than optimal circumstances. When he was gone, Lind couldn’t help worrying that one day he wouldn’t bother coming back to them. Maybe he’d find someone more like him. Or less like Lind. Someone better. 

Lind reveled in the reassuring feeling of him tucked against their back. They had once compared the position to wearing a jetpack. He was still on bad terms with jetpacks and had taken the comparison personally. He kept returning to the position nonetheless. 

Boba had an arm thrown over Lind’s midsection, and they placed their hand over his. Lind would have happily drifted off just like that… but Boba had other plans. Annoying, chin wagging plans.

“Hey, Lind.”

“Mm?” Lind rolled onto their back to hear him better.

“You’re better than I give you credit for.”

”That’s because you’re an arrogant di’kut.” They probably shouldn’t insult him so much. What if he started to think they really meant it? That they didn’t like him? Or worse… what if he realized they liked him _too_ much? Sasch said a lot of things about Lind were too much.

“Don’t forget _special_ ,” he said. He certainly didn’t sound insulted as he lightly kissed their shoulder. 

“Yes, you’re a very _special_ brand of idiot. Go to sleep.” 

“That ship of yours is something else.”

“Mm.” He was fishing for information. Always looking for an edge. Being nosy was a good trait for a bounty hunter, but it was annoying on a personal level.

“You ever gonna tell me about it?”

“What’s life without a few surprises? _Go to sleep_.”

“I hate surprises,” he grumbled, clearly realizing he wasn't getting the intel. It wasn’t Lind’s secret to tell even if they had known the ship’s history. Despite his reputation of relentlessness, Boba knew when to cut his losses. Another good trait for a bounty hunter, and one that had kept him in play for so long. “You guys really karked up my shields.” 

“Don’t let Tippi hear you moaning. She’s looking for a reason to take back that apology discount on your repairs.” Lind felt the mattress shift as he tried to press closer to them. If he kept that up he was going to crush them against the wall. Lind didn’t mind much. It was nice to be reminded that he wanted to be close to them, too.

“I like working with you better than against you.” 

“Mm-hmm. That good old Balazs-Fett alliance. Cheaper for you.” Lind rolled over to face away from him again. Take the hint. _Please_.

“Definitely cheaper.” His arm snaked back around their waist. “But I really gotta say...” Lind didn’t like his sudden shift in tone. He was beginning to sound a little- “I _really_ like how you fight,” -riled up. He placed a few lingering kisses on their neck. “Reminded me of Chandrila. The fighting. The flirting.” Lind didn’t remember much flirting during their brief comm call earlier. Then again, Chewbacca had picked up on something, and Tippi always said they were a little slow with romantic cues. Boba’s hand started rubbing circles on their belly where their undershirt had ridden up and whispered in their ear, “Wanna see about recreating that last bit, too?”

_Eugh_. 

“You’re into cheesy forbidden romance now? Two opponents falling in love in the heat of battle?”

“Never really thought much about it before but…” He pressed himself closer and Lind could feel the chill of the durasteel wall centimeters from their nose.

“Well get a book. Because _this_ romance is forbidden until I get some sleep.”

“Admit it, Lind.” He was purposefully pitching his voice lower, the bastard. “You liked seeing me in action.” No matter what anyone else said, his conflation of fighting and flirting was extremely Mandalorian.

“Honestly Boba? Yes. You’re very good. It's a pleasure watching you work. You earned your reputation many times over.” They could feel his chest puffing up against their back. He was so vain. He started in on Lind’s neck a little more aggressively this time. “But you’re a little too fast on the draw. Keep it in your codpiece.” That had come out much sterner than expected. Boba froze for a moment then drew back. Lind had surprised themselves, too.

“Wait, are you still mad at me?” He asked. Lind frowned. _Were_ they mad? They were tired, they had missed him, and they didn’t want to fight again. “Lind?”

“I’m thinking. Give me a minute.” It was a little unsettling having him hover over their shoulder waiting for the analysis results. “Yes,” they finally decided. “I _am_ angry. You scared me today.”

“I wasn’t shooting to kill once I knew it was you. You know that… right?” Sounded like he had realized that no, they hadn’t known that. How could they? He wasn’t used to cluing other people into his intentions.

“What if you hadn’t found out it was me? What if you hadn’t answered the comm? What if _I_ hurt _you_? Or let Solo get another stab at offing you? You backed me into a corner.” 

“Lind, it was just a few blasters and a couple of two bit gangs. The stakes weren’t that high.” He was trying to comfort them, nip their fearful spiral in the bud. He wasn’t very good at it. 

“Yes, they _were_ that high! This was one of the covert’s jobs, Boba. I couldn’t let it fall through. You’re risking your rep but I’m risking other people’s _lives_. Including yours.”

“What does your covert want with Solo?”

“Boba, I can’t-” but he interrupted them.

“Can’t or won’t?” Lind bit their lip. Sasch had never directly ordered Lind not to tell him…

“We’re trying to get in good with Leia Organa. Grandmother thinks…” Lind hesitated.

“Thinks what?” Boba pressed.

“She thinks the time might be coming to restore Mandalore.”

“Fek.” Boba was silent for a bit, processing the news. “What’s the timeline?”

“I don’t know. Establishing contact with Solo was the first step, but there’s too many unknown factors.”

“If it works out… if you get to Organa…” He sounded dangerously close to hopeful. Lind couldn’t have that. 

“ _If_ the New Republic wins and _if_ they are sympathetic to us and _if_ -”

“No more covert,” his arm tightened around them again. “No more runners. No more missions.”

“Maybe. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“If they don’t need you anymore-”

“Don’t plan for a future we don’t know will happen. Boba, what are we supposed to do if what happened with Solo today happens again? It could ruin everything.”

“It won’t.” He sounded very determined. Apparently he had realized if the covert got what they wanted, so would he. “We’ll coordinate.”

“You can’t run every potential job past me, and I can’t tell you everything the covert orders me to do. I probably shouldn’t even be telling you any of this. The alor’ads would have my helmet with my head still in it if they found out.” 

“NO.” Lind was taken by surprise when Boba grabbed their shoulder much harder than necessary and rolled them onto their back. He swung his leg over, pressed them down with his full weight, and trapped their face between his hands. “That’s not going to happen!” He pressed their foreheads together so hard Lind thought the spot would be red for hours after. “Don’t you _dare_ let them do that to you.” Lind realized they had made an unwise turn of phrase considering how Jango Fett had died. Boba’s ragged breathing started to even out again as he in turn realized they hadn’t meant it literally. “Your head stays right where it is.” He pressed his mouth to their cheek. He was so tense Lind wasn’t sure they could call something that unyielding a kiss. “That’s a new rule. No negotiation.” He was trying to lighten the mood he’d created. It wasn’t working. 

He was heavy and it was hard to breathe, but Lind reached up and gripped his shoulders tightly to hold him in place. They weren’t ready to not have physical assurance that they were both real, together, and _safe_. 

“Nothing is certain. Only death.” They repeated the old proverb a little breathlessly. 

“Kriff that. I’m certain I love you.” Now Lind _really_ couldn’t breathe.

“Boba...” What could they possibly say to that? As far as Lind was concerned, that was a declaration of commitment they weren’t free to make. But...

“Don’t say anything, Lind.” He lifted himself up onto his elbows to give them room to breathe. He hovered above them, stroking their cheekbones with his thumbs. “Not when we both know you’re going to choose _them_.”

“I haven’t chosen anyone,” Lind said. _Not yet_ , something ugly in their chest whispered. They were sure their knuckles were turning white. “I don’t want to.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re gonna have to. Eventually.” His words were harsh but his hands were gentle. “I know you won’t choose me.” There was an unsteadiness in his voice. “It’s ok,” he said. It wasn’t ok, and they both knew it. “You don't need to protect me. I can take care of myself. I always have.”

“I still want to,” Lind said.

“That’s gonna get you killed one day. Be selfish for once.”

“I can take care of myself, too, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

***

Lind fell asleep quickly. Boba lay there listening to their steady breathing for a long time, but he couldn’t sleep. He was feeling so many conflicting things it made him want to crawl out of his own skin. He had never been good with uncertainty. If the covert disbanded, he could have Lind. _If_ they both survived that long. _If_ they chose him. _If_...

He got up. As he passed over the threshold of his quarters, he wondered if the light from the hallway would illuminate Lind’s face. He wondered for what seemed like the millionth time what they looked like. He didn’t look back as the door shut behind him with a hydraulic hiss.

Lind’s little proverb wasn’t wrong. Nothing was certain. Things might work out for him, but he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that it wouldn’t. It never did with the things that really mattered. He’d known going in that he was taking a risk, but he’d fooled himself into believing that losing Lind would hurt less than the last time. 

He wished he could pick his father’s brain. Jango always had an answer. What would he have thought about Lind? Boba wanted to think Jango would have understood. Would have liked them, even. 

He remembered Zam Wesell, his father’s clawdite friend. _Associate_ , Jango had insisted. _There are no friends, only allies._ As if he brought other _associates_ back to their little apartment on Kamino for a home cooked meal. Then he remembered how things had ended between Zam and his father and he winced.

Jango was gone, and he might not have had an answer that Boba wanted to hear anyway. There was only one qualified living person he knew to give him advice on this.

Tippi was below deck working on the shield generators. The hull already looked like nothing had ever happened. The damage had been almost surgically precise, and he wondered if Tippi had planned it that way to reduce how much clean up she would have later. Wouldn’t put it past her. Even with the so-called apology discount, she was probably overcharging him. Hell, it was her fault. It should be free! 

But now that he had a clearer picture of what both she and the Revenant were capable of, he was much more hesitant to pick a fight with her. He really should start taking her death threats a little more seriously. 

“Tippi.”

“You again? What now?”

“You loved someone once. And lost them.”

“Cute theory.”

Fett held her gaze.

“I know the signs. How do you deal with it?” Tippi took a minute to collect her thoughts.

“I try to keep busy. Not much else to do about it. But you know all that already, don’t you? I know the signs, too.” He decided to just cut to the chase.

“What do we do if they leave us?” When had he and Tippi become ‘we’? He supposed it must have been around the time his internal compass shifted in a Lind-like direction.

“We survive. Like before.”

“I had a bad feeling you’d say that.”

“Were you hoping for a different answer? I can’t do magic. I’m not a jedi.”

“I told Lind I love them.”

“Why’d you go and do a stupid thing like that?” She didn’t sound surprised. That hormone scenting thing was damn invasive.

“It just came out.”

“Like your brain, I assume.”

“Why shouldn’t I tell them?” he defended. “It’s true.”

“What did Lind say?”

“Nothing. Told them not to. I didn’t want to hear about all the helpless Mandalorian orphans they’re already beholden to.”

“You sure you don’t qualify? You’re two for three on the helpless Mandalorian orphan front.”

“One of three.”

“You’re a dunce.”

“They’re gonna choose the people they think need them. Let’s face it, that’s not me.”

“Yeah,” Tippi’s ears and shoulders drooped. It wasn’t her either, and she knew it. “You’re right.”

“Do you think it would be worse? If they leave but they’re still out there somewhere? Knowing they could come back, maybe even want to.... but won’t?” Tippi had a look on her face that said she had wondered the same thing many times.

“Look, it’s out of our control. Lind will do what they think they have to. Try not to think about it. We might not have to find out at all.”

“I want them to stay.”

“Did you think spilling all your lovey dovey feelings was gonna do the trick? Is that why you made your big dramatic confession? We don’t live in a romance holo where it ends with a big kiss and then you’re together forever and nothing ever goes wrong!” Her tone was bordering on vicious, but for once it didn’t seem directed at him specifically. “Life is cruel and unexpected and you’ll never be ready when it ends.” 

He didn’t think Tippi was talking about Lind anymore. She was far away and long ago. He had a feeling it would have been achingly familiar if he could see what she was reliving. He wondered whose body she had cried over.

“This is the worst,” he complained. “Things were so simple before. Loving someone is horrible. I hate it.” So what if that came out a little petulant? He felt allowances should be made. He was a special case after all, wasn’t he? “I knew better! Why did I let it happen?” 

Force, he was pathetic. Tippi laughed at him. Mean little womp rat. 

“Would you really give Lind up?”

“No.”

“Then suck it up and suffer. Here. This should help with that.” 

She held a little glittering something out to him. It was one of her homemade hard candies. The encased insect was so small it was barely visible.

Once again, thank you Cookiejuice for these Top Tier Memes!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack  
> Back To The Wall by Divinyls  
> Harden My Heart by Quarterflash  
> Glittering Clouds by Imogen Heap  
> Genghis Khan by Miike Snow  
> Love Love Love by Of Monsters and Men


	8. Love Makes You Stupid

Lind had said they’d be gone for about a week, so Boba took a job for Rotta the Hutt to keep himself occupied. Rotta was always slow to pay up, but Lind still wasn’t back by the time the credit transfer went through. By then it had been nearly three weeks that they’d been gone. The messages he’d been sending to Lind’s gauntlet comm from the Slave I’s long distance transmitter were received but never answered. 

Boba tried to get an update from Tippi but she was uncooperative. He couldn’t help noticing her fretful little tics. Maybe if he wore her down she’d admit to whatever information she was withholding. In the end, all he wore down was her patience. She finally snapped that he’d better knock it off before the Revenant took a swipe at his life support systems. 

Boba had always thought he was a patient man, but he was quickly realizing that patience was deeply conditional. He could sit and wait weeks for a target to slip up and give away their position, but he’d forgotten how helpless it felt when he was a child waiting for the person he loved most to return home. If anything, it was worse now that he had a taste of that person never coming back. There was always another bounty. There would never be another Lind.

He told Tippi he’d forgotten some equipment in Lind’s quarters, and was a little surprised when she allowed him on board to retrieve it. He then locked her out of the cockpit to hijack her transmitter. He was frustrated to discover Lind wasn’t answering calls from the Revenant either. He also discovered Tippi had more than one entrance into the cockpit. She bit him for his trouble.

Lind could take care of themselves. He knew that. He did. And yet he found himself booting up the tracker Lind had given him. They’d emphasized that it was only for emergencies. This could be an emergency. There were plenty of scenarios where Lind might be prevented from calling for help, and even more where they didn’t realize they should call for help in the first place. His mind kept replaying their escapade at the B’omarr monastery where Lind had almost run helmet first into the barrel of Saxon’s E-Web. What if Boba hadn’t shown up when he did?

He was sure Tippi would skin him alive if something happened to Lind that he could have prevented. Maybe he’d score a few points with the covert for looking out for their prodigal child. Honestly, he was doing them all a favor by tracing Lind’s signal to a sparsely inhabited moon in the Stellis system. 

He set down a few clicks outside of an abandoned town. He vaguely remembered visiting for a job when the Empire had been at full strength. It had been a hit for Prince Xizor against one of his rival Black Sun vigos. It had been a quick job. He’d almost forgotten it.

He followed Lind’s signal into the sewers. Maybe it was the creepy atmosphere of the winding tunnels, but he was starting to get a bad feeling. There was a sense that he was crossing an unseen boundary somehow.

Just then, the infrared sensors in his helmet picked up three heat signatures on the level below him. Too large to be womp rats, and two too many for his liking. Was Lind actually in trouble after all?

He pried open the rusted cover of an access shaft and descended as quietly as he was capable. The shaft’s exit put him behind a curve in the tunnel just past where Lind and the two other beings were standing. His audio sensors began to pick up the garbled noise of a conversation as he crept closer along the wall.

“-experienced a major drought. That does not bode well,” a stranger said.

“My scans indicated regular rainfall.” That was Lind. “This was a Black Sun stronghold. The drought could have been artificially manufactured to drive them off.” They didn’t sound like they were in a state of crisis. 

“I don’t like it. Not enough cover outside,” a third voice said.

“Tir has a very good point, Lind,” said the first voice. _Tir._ He knew that name. Where had he heard it?

“It’s no more open than Lothal was, and the covert did fine there for several years.” 

The covert. Fierfek. Not only had he stuck his nose directly into covert business, but he’d stuck it in with two Mandos standing right there. He’d be lucky if they didn’t shoot the damn thing clean off his face.

He should have anticipated this sort of outcome, but he found integral functions of his brain tended to shut down when it came to Lind. He’d always theorized love made you stupid, and he was not thrilled to prove it by example. 

“Of course, you're right.” That was Tir again. He remembered now where he’d heard that name. She was Lind’s first heartbreak. “Your memory is as sharp as ever, vod.” That didn’t sound like the snotty bully he’d built up in his head. She sounded friendly. _Very_ friendly.

“Yes. Lind is our grandmother’s favorite for good reason.” That must be Lind’s sister and direct superior. As if his day wasn’t already fouled up enough.

“Sasch, please. Can we focus up here?” A blaster bolt struck the wall he was hiding behind. Chunks of ferroconcrete flew past his visor. “Don’t want to be rude to our visitor. Friend, I suggest you come out with any appendages you may have reaching for the ceiling. That wall won’t protect you.” 

_Kriff._ He wasn’t sure what they’d told the covert about him. In retrospect, he should have asked. Ignorance may have been bliss but it could also get you killed. He’d need to play it cool and let Lind take the lead on a cover story. If he said the wrong thing this could look real bad for them. He briefly considered just letting Lind blow him up so he wouldn’t have to show his stupid, stupid helmet. 

He slowly stepped around the corner, palms out, to face the three Mandalorians. They all had their blasters trained on his forehead. He was very grateful Lind had bullied him into letting them reinforce that dent in the crown of his helmet.

“Boba Fett,” That was Lind’s sister, Sasch. She was a dual wielder like his father. Her Westar 35s glinted in the dim lighting. Guess finicky equipment maintenance was a family trait. “At last we meet. I have heard many things about you.”

“Flattered.” Some people might have said it wasn’t the time to get quippy, but Boba wasn’t some people. He tilted his helmet in Lind’s direction. “I was looking for you, Lind.” 

Lind audibly sighed as they lowered their blaster. Sasch’s helmet cocked to the side in obvious confusion, but followed Lind’s example and lowered the barrels of her Westars to the floor.

“Well, here I am.” Lind was clearly trying to de-escalate the situation, but Tir apparently couldn’t read the room.

“What does dar'manda scum like you want with our Lind?” Tir interjected, blaster still at the ready. 

_Our_ Lind? That was awfully possessive of her, and Boba found he did not like that one bit. 

“ _Our_ business doesn’t concern _you_ ,” he snapped. 

Boba liked to keep his demeanor as neutral as possible. Extreme emotion was a disadvantage in his business, but his usual trick didn’t work here. This wasn’t business, and there was no way he could spin it as anything other than deeply personal. This woman wasn’t merely Lind’s childhood tormentor. She was Lind’s ideal. While he had the chance, so he might as well get a good look to see how he measured up.

Boba wasn’t a tall man, but there was good reason he shared his genetic template with one of the most efficient armies in recent history. It took a lot to make him feel truly small, but Tir did a phenomenal job of it. 

The graceful, sloping curves of her Nite Owl style helmet were the only delicate things about her. She was tremendously tall, and every line of her body was efficient and brutal. She was the paragon of Mandalorian warriors. Boba had to admit he was a major downgrade in comparison. How did Lind manage to look at him when there was all of _that_ back at the covert? 

Even Tir’s blaster looked built. Definitely custom and still pointed right at his dent. Not to disparage their skills as an armorer, but he wasn’t feeling quite so optimistic about Lind’s patch job holding up against that brute. 

Tir purposefully side stepped in front of Lind. Did she think Lind couldn’t handle him? That was insulting. Lind didn’t need protecting. He was acutely aware he’d just wasted two hyperspace jumps worth of fuel to come do the exact same thing, but he hadn’t actually believed Lind needed it. That didn’t make him a hypocrite, right?

“Lind, get out of here,” Tir ordered. “I’ll take care of this.” Lind’s helmet tilted up at her. Boba desperately wished he could see their face. What were they seeing? 

“That won’t be necessary, vod. He’s no threat.”

“You’re valuable. You’re a credit to your clan, but to him you’re just credits. There’s no point in you wasting time with pretender trash.” 

_Valuable._ So Tir had a change of heart about Lind after all. If there was a chance with her, why would Lind stay with ‘pretender trash’ like him? Suddenly the blaster pointed at his head seemed trivial. 

He knew he wasn’t being rational. It had all the hallmarks of a really horrible idea. Going into a fight compromised like this was dangerous, but… he needed Lind to stop looking up at Tir like that. From this angle, it almost looked like admiration. 

His rifle slid off his shoulder as he rushed Tir. She tossed her own blaster aside and met him with a deep bellow. Probably some honor thing about meeting an opponent on equal terms. Or maybe it was meant as an insult, that she didn’t need anything more than her fists to take him. Either way, it was stupid of her to give up an advantage. Not half as stupid as him, though.

He vaguely registered this was playing out like a nature documentary holo about bantha mating rituals where two rival suitors would lock horns. He probably should feel ashamed of himself, but all he saw was the red of Tir’s armor.

He gloried in her pained grunt when he landed a hit. It almost made up for her immediate retribution in the form of a Keldabe Kiss headbutt that sent him reeling. He considered that to be Lind’s signature move, both in and out of a fight. Tir must have known Lind’s fondness for the tactic. They’d trained together since childhood. Maybe even before either of them were officially inducted into the creed. She might know Lind’s face...

The next thing he knew, he had a brief view of his own feet whipping towards the ceiling before he was slammed down onto his back. He was thankful for all the soft mud that absorbed some of the impact. 

He had to get back up. Why was he not moving? He felt one of his toes twitch. That was a good sign, right? Tir was above him now. She didn’t belong there. Lind did. 

She struck him hard in the helmet. Once, twice. He heard a loud snapping noise. He hoped it wasn’t his skull. He was getting ready to accept the third blow when suddenly Tir was gone. 

It took a bit for his vision to clear, and the effort to sit upright made him incredibly dizzy. Tir was on her ass, too. _Good._ That was fair. Her arms were bound to her sides by a whip cord which Lind was in the process of disconnecting from their gauntlet.

“Lind, what is going on?” Who said that? _Oh._ Lind’s sister. Tash… Slash... 

Whatever her name was, Lind didn’t answer her. They left Tir struggling on the ground and knelt down in the muck next to Boba. 

So, this was it. Lind had seen him next to a real Mandalorian and realized he was a cheap knockoff after all. Despite all his hype, Boba Fett was nothing. His armor might as well have been empty for all the substance he had. They reached for his helmet, and Boba supposed it wouldn’t be such a loss. He’d never deserved to wear it in the first place… but instead of pulling it off, Lind grasped him by his ear caps and deliberately pulled him forward. The Keldabe Kiss was so gentle it barely made a sound when their helmets met. 

“Oh, _Lind_ ,” Sasch gave an exasperated sigh while Tir sputtered with uncontained rage beside her.

“You’re joking. _Him_?”’ 

Boba felt delirious, in both the bad and good ways. He might throw up in his bucket at any moment, but Lind was laying an official claim to him with witnesses from their own covert. Right in front of the visor of the woman they had once pined over. 

Tir may have knocked him flat on his back, but he’d still won somehow. _Lind chose ME!_ He wanted to shout at her, _You don’t even rank!_ Lind was looking at _him_ now _._

“It’s like I said, Tir,” Lind pulled back but didn’t turn away from him. “He’s no threat.” 

Of course he was a threat. He was the best bounty hunter in the galaxy. The BEST. He could take them all in a fight! Especially Lind! No... wait… not fight. He liked Lind...

He didn’t even register when Lind actually did take his helmet off. They sprayed him directly in the face with bacta like he was a misbehaving tooka.

“Boba, you know you’re saying all that out loud right?”

“Huh?” All he could focus on was the way their hand cradled the back of his head. They gently encouraged him to tilt it forward so his eyes and their visor were level.

“Your expression looks stupider than usual. Can you follow my finger?”

“Why would I do that?” Because Lind had asked, of course. He tried to follow the quick darting movement of their gloved hand but it was difficult. But he had to try! Why did he have to try…?

“What’s your father’s name?” He had to think about that for a minute.

“… Jango. I’m better than he was.”

“Of course you are. What was your mother’s name?” He frowned in confusion for a moment before his brow smoothed out and he nodded to himself.

“That’s a trick question, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“I’m _very_ smart.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I think I have a concussion.” Lind snorted and turned away. Where were they going? Come back! 

“Sasch, do you have any more bacta spray?”

“Are you certain you do not wish to leave him this way? He is better company now.”

“Sasch, _please._ ”

“To think people say _I_ am the killjoy sibling.”

***

The bacta spray must have been doing its job. Enough of Boba’s usual personality returned for him to have a nice snit when Tir hoisted him over her shoulder. He was incapable of remaining upright on level ground, much less climbing the access shafts under his own power. Unfortunately, he was also incapable of accepting that fact.

He was cursing up a colorful storm in a mix of Mando’a, Huttese, and what sounded like Shyriiwook. They may have been giving him too much credit linguistically, though. The Shyriiwook sounded suspiciously like plain, old fashioned groaning. 

_Stubborn, prideful fool_ , Lind thought with intense fondness as they cradled his dented helmet like an infant. They hastily stopped caressing his yellow kill stripes when they noticed Tir staring. Sasch had at least known about Lind’s business arrangement with Boba, but Tir hadn’t been aware that Lind had so much as seen him in person. 

Aside from Grandmother, Tir had always been the loudest with her criticism of the bounty hunter. She judged him to be honorless and, despite all evidence to the contrary, _weak_. Lind was ashamed they had never been more than lukewarm in his defense. Tir’s opinions had always reflected the consensus of the covert, and, if they were honest, they were deathly afraid of that disapproval. In the moment, Lind had only cared about stopping Tir from killing Boba. But now that they’d had a moment to reflect… what must Tir think of Lind?

Boba further complicated matters when, no matter how diplomatically Sasch asked, he emphatically refused to share the location or access codes for the Slave I. Tir made an inarticulate noise of sheer frustration. Boba was doing nothing to improve her opinion of him. He’d never been one to chase approval, but that was one of the first things Lind had admired about him. Even if it would make things run more smoothly, Lind wouldn’t have him be any other way.

Boba was, as he was so fond of being, _special_. Everything Lind had, including Tippi and the Revenant, was devoted in service to the creed in one capacity or another. Boba was the first thing Lind had never had to share. It didn’t matter if it was only because no one else wanted an ornery little bastard like him. Lind wanted him, and that was enough.

Lind could have easily solved the mystery of where the Slave I was. They knew the access codes and how to track the ship’s location through Boba’s left gauntlet. But that information was another thing they had no intention of sharing.

Boba was a very private man. Okay, private was a little too kind. Paranoid. Not that he didn’t have good reason to be. Lind had been absolutely giddy when he presented them with full, unfettered access to his ship. He had even registered Lind’s bio signature as an administrator in the onboard computer. It was the most precious gift Lind had ever received. Divulging any of it to Sasch and Tir felt on par with betraying sensitive covert information to Moff Gideon himself. 

Lind wished they could leave Tir and Sasch, take Boba, and find a dark place to properly kiss his idiot face. The reality was that they needed to finish the assignment before kissing of any kind could be done. They couldn’t stay with him, but the nature of the mission meant they couldn’t take him with them either.

“I say we just drop him right here in the dirt,” Tir grumbled.

“We can’t just leave him alone,” Lind objected. 

“Sure we can,” Tir insisted. She readjusted her grip on Boba who was beginning to struggle against her with a little more fervor. Lind put a hand out to try and calm him but he nearly kicked them in the helmet. 

“The gundarks don’t usually come this close to the settlement,” Lind explained, “but if today is the day they decide to try new things he is in no position to defend himself.” 

“I agree he should not be left unattended,” Sasch, who had been fiddling with her wrist-mounted comm, finally chimed in. Lind could have hugged her for that. “However, I am less concerned about gundarks and more that he may attempt to follow us once more. I do not trust his intentions as you do, Lind.” Maybe no hugging after all.

“Why don’t we just shoot him?” Tir suggested, and Boba went very still. Lind took the opportunity to reach out and grab his ankle in an effort to both reassure him and prevent more wriggling. If Tir dropped him, he’d be liable to land on his head again. They only had so much bacta, and Lind didn’t want him to suffer permanent brain damage. At least not anymore than he must already have to follow them here.

“Absolutely not,” Lind said. “We’ll figure something out.”

“No need,” Sasch replied. “The Revenant is in orbit. I have requested that your mechanic meet us here.” Tippi was far more than a mechanic, but there wasn’t much value in correcting Sasch. No past reminder had stuck so why should it this time? “I will be comforted to know he is guarded by her keen eyes and sturdy locks while we conduct our business.”

It didn’t take Tippi long to arrive, and she was not pleased by what greeted her when she did.

“Boba-sitting duty? What did I ever do to deserve this?” She complained as Tir unceremoniously dumped Boba into the copilot’s chair. His head lolled forward. Lind tilted his face back up with a finger crooked beneath his chin and gave him another little spritz of bacta. Sasch snagged the can from Lind’s hand. 

“He has had more than enough,” she reprimanded. “I understand your concern, but please do not waste all of our supply on him.” She turned back to Tippi. “I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience. It shall only be a few hours. Perhaps by then he will be a little more…” She glanced over to where Lind was gently resisting Boba’s attempts to wrangle them onto the copilot’s seat with him. “...cooperative. It is imperative we finish our reconaissance here.” 

That was a prettily worded but blatant lie. The three Mandalorians would still carry out the data collection as planned, but they weren’t sure how much of their conversation Boba had overheard. Someone like him so much as suspecting Mandalorian interest in the moon meant it was no longer a viable option for the covert’s next base. They’d toured several other possibilities in the last couple weeks, so this wasn’t a major setback. Hopefully, the charade would throw him off their scent, and whatever they learned about this location could still prove useful down the line. 

Sasch sent Tir ahead to scout a cluster of abandoned warehouses, likely meant to store spice and other contraband when the Black Sun ruled the system. She sat down on a crumbling stone wall and patted the space beside her in invitation. Lind had been wondering how much longer she would wait before manufacturing pretense for a private discussion. Lind couldn’t imagine she was happy about anything that had gone on that day. They were not looking forward to being chewed out. 

“Boba Fett is not what I was expecting,” Sasch said. She was much calmer than Lind had expected. Maybe this would be a more pleasant conversation than they’d anticipated.

“He wasn’t what I expected either.”

“If that embarrassing display with Tir is a reliable indicator, he is deeply infatuated with you. Yet you glossed over that detail in all your reports and debriefings. Why?”

“It was... irrelevant.”

“Normally, I would not approve of you feeding whatever romantic delusions he holds, but his fascination certainly makes him a useful tool for you to wield. What is your plan for him?”

Lind exploded like a thermal detonator. Did Sasch really think so poorly of their integrity? 

“He’s not a _tool_!” 

“Are you saying his feelings are reciprocated?”

“ _Yes_!”

“...I see.” Sasch sighed. She sounded resigned rather than surprised, and Lind realized it had been a trap. Sasch had likely had suspicions about Lind’s feelings well before the Keldabe Kiss in the sewer. She just wanted to hear Lind admit it out loud. “You are my sibling, and I love you. I cannot help but feel he is not a fit partner in any respect.”

“He is loyal and honorable... in his own way. I think he would be a worthy addition to the creed if he was given a real chance. He’s one of the fiercest warriors I’ve ever met.” Lind frowned. Boba should have won that fight with Tir. What had gone wrong?

“Fierce, to be sure. I had heard he was also calculating and efficient. He displayed neither of those qualities today.”

“That was completely unlike him,” Lind admitted. It deeply worried them. “He isn’t that sloppy.” 

“Yes, such a performance could get him killed. I think Tir might have actually finished him off without your intervention.”

“You don’t suppose he was somehow concussed beforehand? Hit his head on a low doorway maybe?”

“Lind, let me be blunt. It is easy to be calculated and ruthless when you have nothing at stake.”

“Sasch, you could stand to be a little more blunt than that.”

“Do you recall what Grandmother says? _It is not strength if the bucket you carry has no water in it._ Until now, he has fought only for credits and glory. The weakness is revealed when he at last fights for something of true value. If he cannot learn to function properly, he deserves his fate.”

“You’re saying he lost his edge because I’m a distraction?”

“It has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact he is a socially maladjusted narcissist.”

“Do you think he’d be better off if I was out of the picture?” 

Intellectually, Lind knew things with Boba would have to end one way or the other. None of the endings were pleasant to consider, but they definitely preferred the ones where he wasn’t dead. Lind had hoped to leave all those upsetting possibilities in the future where they belonged. Now it seemed that future was closing in fast. They were not prepared for a year’s worth of pent up grief and fear to crash down on them all at once. When would they learn to stop ignoring problems they couldn’t simply shoot?

“I do not care if he would be better off without you. _You_ would be better off without _him_.” Sasch sighed deeply. “He is just like that mangy tooka you kept feeding whenever you would visit us on Lothal.” 

Lind smiled fondly at the memory of the one eyed tooka. He had eventually moved into the same cave system that housed the covert. The foundlings kept him fed and cared for while he waited patiently for Lind to come back and visit. Then the stormtroopers found them and he was left behind in the ensuing chaos. Lind had been heartbroken. They’d ventured back to look for him once but found no trace.

“Atin’ika was a loyal companion.”

“It bit me. Many times. And it had fleas”

“Boba doesn’t have fleas. No promises about the biting, though.”

“What was it about that ill-mannered beast you found so endearing?”

“He needed someone. Doesn’t Grandmother also say we should care for the lost?”

”She is referring to foundlings, not tookas or full grown men who demand privileges they are not owed. I recognize your hand in that armor Boba Fett was wearing. Even a shoddy paint job like that cannot hide Balazs craftsmanship. You were not there when he visited Grandmother. He tried to barter for new armor like she was some kind of Jawa. Please tell me he did not disrespect you the same way?”

“He earned what I gave him. Paid nicely, too.”

“So he is the one who gave you the beskar.”

“Yes.”

“Had she known, Grandmother would never have accepted it. She would be ashamed of you.”

“Well that would hardly be a new development!” Even the heavy regulation of Lind’s vocoder couldn’t keep the intense bitterness out of their tone.

“Boba Fett has never once shown a genuine interest in his heritage. He has sold his loyalties to our enemies when it suited him. In the end, he serves only himself.”

“He said he loves me.” They sounded small and weak even to their own ears.

“Even if that were true, no one can survive on love. Your people need you. Grandmother is… unwell. We do not know how long she has left.”

“Oh... I see.”

“Do you? Lind, we will need someone of your skill to help lead the renewal of Mandalore.”

“Clan Balazs has other armorers...”

“You know that is not the skill I am referring to. Lind…” Sasch took a long pause. That usually meant she was preparing to give bad news. “There was a raid. We were not expecting the Imperial remnant to have the resources it did. Many were lost.”

“What??” Lind recognized this feeling. It was the shock of being shot before the realization of pain kicked in. “Why didn’t you say anything? Is that why Tir has been so… _protective_?” 

Sasch sighed again. She had been sighing a lot that day. “Aside from grandmother, you are now the only complete surviving repository of the Clan Balazs record.” The only one? That meant...

“ _All of them_? Samel? Jesh?” Lind had always been closer with their younger cousins than with Sasch, and not just because they’d memorized the oral histories and songs side by side. They had all survived so much together...

“Samel is gone with the others. It might have been better if Jesh fell with him. The damage to his mind was extensive. He was tested. He failed.”

“What about the unfledged?”

“Grandmother is unlikely to live long enough to finish their training. It will be up to you.” 

“I don’t know if I can-”

“I know how difficult this must be, but you had to know this was a possibility. You will have to come home.” The covert hadn’t felt like home in a very long time.

“When?”

“Not yet. Your work as a runner is still vital, and your connections will make you difficult to replace. Not to mention the risk of disrupting your progress with Solo and Organa. However, the time is coming. You must prepare to say goodbye to your pet aruetiise.” _Outsiders._

“They’re not _pets_! Why can’t Boba and Tippi be a part of the renewal? Tippi has been instrumental in my missions. And Boba… he would help if I asked. He isn’t an outsider. He may be lost, but he’s still one of us.”

“Your heart is kind, but you cannot afford to be soft about this. Tippi has been useful so far, but she has no steel in her soul. This is why she clings so tightly to you. She would gladly seal the entire covert’s doom if it would spare you. She is a liability. The same goes for Boba Fett. He has neither loyalty nor respect for the Way of the Mandalore. His soul is empty. He may look like one of us and he may fight like us, but he is worse than aruetii. He is dar'manda. You know this. ”

“I don’t accept that.”

“I really am sorry, Lind. But you are going to have to.”

***

Boba wasn’t sure which was more humiliating: the sarlacc incident with Solo or having Lind watch him get pounded into the ground by their childhood crush.

He was honestly shocked Tippi hadn’t pounced on his crushing defeat like one of her Chandrilan katydids. She’d barely acknowledged it, much less made any jeering comments. A part of him was thankful, but the rest of him had been listening to Tippi ranting about the covert for the past hour and a half straight. He was starting to miss the blissful ignorance of a major concussion.

“They’re just using Lind, you know. I can’t say anything because Lind gets all defensive but I _know_ I’m right. I think they do it all on purpose. Put Lind down, keep them desperate for that sweet validation so they’ll do whatever they’re told. You know what I think? The leadership is as scared as we are that Lind might leave them. If I were Lind, I would have left by now.”

He supposed it was good to have an ally against the covert, but he also wanted to think about literally anything else at that moment. He’d gotten into this mess because he’d wanted to see Lind so badly, and that still held true. He hoped they would be back soon, preferably with news of Tir’s tragic but darkly humorous demise. Eaten by an ewok sounded good. A real fitting end to a noble warrior. 

He was feeling a lot better, but maybe Lind didn’t need to know that. Maybe if he slurred his speech enough they’d come keep an eye on him for a few days. Just the two of them. Alone. Without Tippi. Force, would she ever stop talking?

Tippi chittered something angrily in the chadra-fan language. He got the gist but wasn’t familiar with that particular dialect. He hoped his brain was functioning well enough to recall it later. Maybe he could figure out where her people were from. She was a mystery and he didn’t like not knowing things.

“Hey, is that them?”

Boba whipped towards the viewport too fast. His head spun and he felt the ration bar he’d eaten earlier that day trying to come back up. It was worth it when he caught sight of three figures flying toward them. One broke formation and accelerated. _Lind_. That model was built for more prolonged flights, but they were still burning a lot of fuel at that speed. Normally, he’d be deeply irked by the waste but right now all he cared about was that they got back to the ship as soon as possible.

He stood up as fast as he dared, intending to meet them at the loading ramp, but Tippi nailed him right in the back of the knee and he collapsed back into the chair. He glared at her.

“Stay put, fancy feet. I’m not interested in getting crushed to death if you fall on me. They’ll be here soon anyway.” 

She was right, which he was frustrated to find was often the case. Lind landed first with Tir hot on their tail. She must have called out to them because Lind suddenly paused and turned away from the Revenant and back towards her. Boba tried to keep his breathing steady and his face impassive. It was a pointless exercise. He knew Tippi could smell his telltale hormonal spikes. Still. It was the principle of it.

Tir approached Lind and firmly gripped their shoulder. She tilted her helmet down towards Lind’s, and Boba stopped trying to play it cool altogether. It wasn’t an ideal angle but he was positive that was a Keldabe Kiss.

“Are you seeing this??” Tippi exclaimed. Of course he was seeing this. She knew damn well what it was doing to his blood pressure. 

He tried telling himself a Keldabe Kiss wasn’t inherently romantic. He’d seen Lind deal them out with abandon to Tippi and even their favorite servers at the numerous diners they frequented. It didn’t help. Lind had never wanted to lock lips with Tippi or any of the wait staff.

Lind stood frozen in place for several long moments before they gave a curt nod and turned away once more.

“The _nerve_ of her! After all the horrible things she said to them? If she thinks she’s gonna sweep Lind off their rocket boots, she’s got another thing coming! I know I said Lind has self esteem problems, but even they’re not gonna fall for _that_!” Boba’s only response was a noncommittal grunt. Did Tir know he was watching? “She doesn’t care about Lind,” Tippi was still fuming. “I bet she only wants them now because you’re in the picture. God, she’s a child! Wanting something only after someone else has it.”

“Maybe she actually likes them.” He felt sick again, and he didn’t think it was all the concussion’s fault. He knew he was difficult to work with, and his personality left a lot to be desired. How long before Lind got fed up with him? Tir was the more convenient and socially acceptable option. And stronger. There was history. “She finally got it through her thick skull that Lind is… _valuable_.” That’s what Tir had said, hadn’t she? Right before they fought?

“Yeah. _Valuabl_ e.” Tippi parroted back to him. He suspected she hadn’t actually paid much attention to what he’d said. “Lind has status in the clan these days. They‘re a legacy after all. Bet that’s really shiny to a grunt like Tir who only knows how to take orders.” 

Boba had always been proud to be a bounty hunter. Independent, beholden to no one. He could be more discerning with his clientele because he delivered high quality service they couldn’t get from anyone else. He’d poured his entire self into his profession. But at the end of the day, he was still a grunt. Just like Tir. 

The true difference between them was that Lind didn’t need a bounty hunter. Their priorities would always lie with the Mandalorians. They’d never have to choose between that and Tir. She was already part of it in a way Boba never could be. Even if he offered up every skill and resource he possessed it would never measure up. 

The loneliness had been so pervasive he hadn’t realized it was even there until Lind landed on top of him. Meeting them had been a perfect convergence of coincidence and oddly compatible personality quirks he couldn’t replicate if he tried. What they had built together was still new, but he already loathed the idea of returning to how things had been before. 

Lind staying with him was stiff odds, but he wasn’t going to roll over and accept defeat. Decisiveness and commitment were traits he had carefully fostered in himself. When he wanted something, he pursued it until he caught it. He’d already caught Lind. Now he just had to find a way to keep them...

“Why are you being so quiet??” Tippi whacked his arm. She’d finally realized he wasn’t paying attention. “You’re supposed to say mean things with me!”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. She’s a real cunt.” There was no venom left in him, but Tippi seemed satisfied.

“Damn straight!!” She slammed her tiny fist down hard on the armrest of the captain’s chair. “Ow!” Apparently too hard. He wondered how she could cram that much rage into her teeny tiny body.

Lind seemed off when they finally entered the cockpit. Their pauldrons were visibly slumped as they approached where he sat. 

“How are you feeling?” they asked.

“Still a bit dizzy.” Lind’s hand came up and stroked the hair by his left temple. He had an insane urge to purr. Then Sasch came through the entryway, closely followed by Tir, and Lind snatched their hand back like a child caught stealing sweet-sand cookies before dinner.

Well. That was a new and unwelcome development. Why were they suddenly shy? What had changed for them between now and that Keldabe Kiss they had shared down in the mud and sewage? 

“Boba Fett,” Sasch addressed him. “I hope you have recovered well.”

“I’ve had worse.” He tried for cavalier. She’d seen enough humiliating things from him that day.

“I am pleased to hear that.” Bet she was. “If you are capable, I must ask you to return to your own ship now. We will be departing soon.” He wanted to scowl at her but he instead elected to lightly purse his lips and raise a single eyebrow. It had been one of his father’s quirks, a way to communicate how little regard he held for someone without wasting words. Boba had been mimicking it since he’d first seen it weaponized against a business associate trying to sucker Jango into a bad deal.

“Well, to be totally transparent, I am not really feeling too… capable. Your girl over there did a real number on me.” She’d cracked his damn visor. She had some sort of spiked knuckle armor he assumed must be beskar. He wondered if they impeded her dexterity at all. He’d have to ask Lind about it. But first, he had to get Lind alone. He purposefully maintained eye contact with Sasch as he continued, “Lind, you mind helping a barve out to his ship? If you don’t have anything else left on the burner, I have a job that could use some extra hands. Shouldn’t take more than a couple days. Low profile. Good pay.”

He stared down Sasch and Tir, daring them to protest. They knew damn well the kind of rates he charged, and a healthy portion of Lind’s cut would be funneled their way. They’d be fools to try and stop Lind from going with him. Tir must have been a fool then, because she jerked forward like she wanted to lunge for his throat again. Sasch put a restraining hand on her pauldron. Neither of them said anything in the end.

“I’ll get the swoop bike out of the cargo hold,” Lind replied.

Lind was quick to say their farewells, and Boba might have exaggerated his stagger just a _little_ bit on his way out. Tir stood at the top of the loading ramp with her arms crossed over her chest. Boba made sure she was looking as he pressed himself as close to Lind as possible when he settled in behind them. 

“You faker,” he heard Lind chuckle quietly as he slipped an arm around their waist. He bumped the sides of their helmets together. Not quite a proper Keldabe Kiss, but the sentiment was there.

He couldn’t help giving Tir a cocky little two fingered salute of farewell as Lind revved the engine and pulled away from the Revenant. The salute wasn’t really his usual style. It was the sort of obnoxious thing he’d seen men like Solo do to rub a victory in their opponent’s nose. It seemed appropriate for this situation, though. He’d won this hand of proverbial Sabacc and was now making his triumphant getaway with the coveted prize. It would be worth having to pay the covert out of his own pocket to cover his lie about the job that didn’t actually exist. Even if it was only for a few days, Lind was his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack  
> Don’t Talk to Strangers by Eddie Money  
> Fool For Love by Lord Huron  
> It Will Come Back by Hozier  
> Tin Man by Animal Kingdom  
> No Son of Mine by Genesis  
> Beat of a Heart by Scandal Ft. Patty Smyth
> 
> Boba is wrong. Lind's ideal is actually smelly little gremlin.


	9. Trial By Water, Fire, and Hot Air

“So, this is where you grew up.”

“Until I was about Tippi’s height, yeah.”

“Hm.” Lind gazed out of the cockpit at the choppy seas and billowing storm clouds of Kamino. He hadn’t been back here in over a decade, but it had been his first impulse when deciding where to take Lind. 

He didn’t like to indulge in nostalgia, but he knew how much Lind enjoyed learning new things. Why not let them learn about him? If he couldn’t get closer to Lind’s world, maybe they could get closer to his. He had hoped they’d be a little more impressed, though. 

“It’s… very gray. No wonder your default mood is big old grump.”

“ _ Hey _ .”

“How did you stand it? Being surrounded by all that water.” Lind gave an exaggerated shudder to make their point. 

“I liked watching the storms. My father would take me spearfishing.”

“We fished, too. There was a lake near the covert’s base on Takodana when I was younger. I remember looking out at the middle where it was deep and thinking about what would happen if I fell in.”

“Probably not much. The lakes there are pretty shallow. No big predators. Nice place. Serene. There were a couple sheltered areas under Tipoca City that had relatively calm waters. The vibrations from the energy generators kept most of the bigger fish away, but my father never let me go in without him and-”

“Hang on, he let you go into  _ that _ ?” Lind jabbed their finger at the ocean beneath them.

“Sure.”

“On purpose? Did your father hate you? You can’t even  _ see  _ the bottom!” 

“We were swimming. For fun. You know? Swimming?” He crudely mimed a breaststroke. Lind stared at him for a long, incredulous moment before looking back at the ocean.

“You went into that...to swim… for  _ fun _ ?”

“Yeah. You must have swam on Takodana.” Lind looked back at him and slowly shook their head. “Lind… you know how to swim, right?” Another slow shake of their head. “How have you gotten this far in life not knowing how to swim? What do you do on water planets?”

“I don’t  _ do _ on water planets if I can help it.” Boba was gobsmacked.

“No one in your covert ever taught you?”

“There was never much opportunity.” Lind sounded defensive. They were scared, he realized. Well frankly, so was he now.

“There is a lot of water in this galaxy. What if you fall in? Or someone pushes you?”

“Well, beskar doesn’t float so-”  _ Unacceptable _ .

“You are learning how to swim.” Lind’s whole body tensed up and their helmet swung wildly to look back out at the raging ocean. “Not  _ here _ , di’kut!”

***

“Boba! It has been a long time since you last visited Takodana. My, how you’ve grown!”

“Hello, Maz.”

“I do not mean to pry, but why are you trying to drown your friend?”

“That’s actually not the intended outcome of this exercise.”

“Hm. Perhaps you should rethink your strategy.” 

He glanced down to where he was holding Lind below the surface of the lake. They were thrashing in panic even though he knew full well they could hold their breath for five minutes past depletion of their helmet’s oxygen stores. It had only been three.

“Yeah, reckon I better. The lesson just isn’t sinking in.”

Boba released his hold on Lind’s shoulders who took the opportunity to burst out of the water like a breaching Kaminoan aiwha, though not as gracefully. The water was far from cold, but their whole body was trembling beneath their soaked wetsuit. 

“Hey, Boba,” they said between sharp, gasping breaths. “Your turn.”  _ Uh oh _ . They swept his leg, and he couldn’t recover his footing amidst the slippery weeds lining the bottom of the lake. 

They ended up back at Maz’s castle in one of her private rooms. Lind was aggressively sipping their Hoth chocolate through a straw. Maz had an uncanny ability to pinpoint exactly what someone needed, though this time she’d cheated a bit. Maz had been a supplier for Lind’s covert during its earliest years when it was based on her planet. It was still impressive that she could remember one Mandalorian child’s favorite beverage and then recognize them as an adult by voice alone. 

Lind hadn’t spoken to him since the disastrous swimming lesson. Maz’s far gentler instruction had Lind afloat and paddling their way through the water within an hour. The subtle downward tilt of their helmet every time they looked in his direction told Boba they had still not forgiven him. What was he supposed to have done? That was how his father taught him to overcome the fear of drowning. It was a trial by fire. But damp. 

So maybe teaching wasn’t his calling. At least now he could rest easy knowing Lind wouldn’t immediately sink like a rock to the bottom of any water higher than their own neck. They couldn’t hold it against him forever. 

“I will  _ never _ forgive you.” Or maybe they could.

“You’ll thank me one day.”

“I’ll thank  _ Maz _ .” He tried to slide in next to them on their bench but they got up and moved to the other side of the table out of his reach.

“C’mon, don’t be like that, Lind.” He’d worked so hard to get them here. He tried to follow after them but they both just ended up where they’d started.

“First you embarrass me in front of my sister and Tir, then you lie about the job, and now you try to drown me!” 

“I said I was sorry. Except for lying about the job. No regrets there. Did I not promise to pay you for your very valuable time?” He tried to invade their bench again but they scooted to the far end of it, ready to bolt again if he got any closer.

“That’s not the point!”

“Hey,” he reached for their mug. “Can I get some of that?”

“Back off, Fett!”

“Demoted to last name basis, huh?”

“Leave me alone.”

“You’d miss me too much. C’mon. Why don’t we turn the lights off, kiss, and make up?”

“I’d rather kiss Han Solo’s wookiee.”

“Sorry, but Chewie’s  _ my _ boyfriend.” Maz had returned carrying a plate of wiggling tubers and assorted fruits. “Stick to bounty hunting, Boba. Seduction isn’t your strong suit.” 

She smiled and pinched his cheek as if he were still a child tagging along after his father. She was quite literally over a thousand years old, so he supposed to her he still was that child. “Now stop chasing them around.” She must have been watching them from the doorway for longer than he’d realized. If she were anyone else, he’d think he was losing his edge.

“Lind, tell her. You think it’s  _ sweet _ when I chase you.”

“I will stab you and feel no remorse.” Lind’s tone was so icy he almost believed they really meant it. Maz cackled.

“You are as successful a flirt as your father, Boba! It must go right down to the DNA. You know, there was a good reason he had to go all the way to Kamino to have a you.” 

“I don’t have to take this.”

“Well, at least take one of these then.” She handed him a shuura fruit. He had never had much of a sweet tooth, but he had loved shuura as a child. He pulled a knife from its holster in his boot and cut into it.

“That’s disgusting.” Lind said.

“You don’t like shuura?”

“You’re using your boot knife to cut your food. It wasn’t happening before, but kissing is _ absolutely not  _ happening now.” He scowled at them and, Maz laughed again. She reached a small wrinkled hand across the table and patted Lind’s forearm.

“He is truly uncivilized, but he does mean well,” Maz said. Lind huffed.

Maz spread two bed rolls out on the floor. She left them separated by a few inches. Boba pushed his flush against Lind’s. They didn’t protest, but they did lie down facing away from him. He placed an experimental hand on their shoulder blade, but they shook him off. Message received. Hands to himself.

He was a little surprised when they spoke up again.

“Was that really how your father taught you to swim? Just tossed you into the deep water, held you down, and let you sink?

“He wouldn’t have really let me sink. But it was a good way to learn. After he died, that’s how I learned everything else.” He told Lind about Aurra Sing. He had been eleven, distraught by his father’s death. He thought she was his new protector. She was going to finish his training and help him avenge Jango. Then she abandoned him to the Jedi on Florrum.

“That’s horrible.” Boba didn’t appreciate pity, but at least they’d turned to face him now. 

“I deserved it.”

“No child deserves that, Boba.”

“Still should have seen it coming. It wasn’t personal. Everyone is out for number one.”

“Everyone?”

“Even you would cut me loose if it came down to it.” 

“No I wouldn’t.”

“You can’t know that until the moment you have to make the choice.”

“I already had the moment. For Tippi, on Ando. Lucky me, the guy was a bad shot.”

“Is that where you got the scar on your left side?” He’d felt the telltale mark of a blaster bolt wound plenty of times but never got around to asking about it. He’d always gotten distracted by all the other things he wanted to touch...

“I’d do the same for you,” they said softly. Boba stopped thinking about where he wanted to put his hands.

“ _ No. _ If you don’t walk away I will never forgive you.”

“Good. Then we’ll be even.” He seethed silently, trying to articulate how wasteful it was for two people to die when one of them could have survived. But then Lind asked, “Would you leave me to die alone?”

“No.” It was a knee jerk response. He hadn’t even thought about it.

“Sasch said-“

“Sasch isn’t as smart as she thinks she is,” he paused, trying to collect his thoughts. It seemed she wasn’t the only one. “I’ve left a lot of people to die, but they weren’t you.”

“So why are you asking me to do what you won’t?” Leave it to Lind to point out all the flaws in his armor, even the metaphorical. “You’re a hypocrite.” He was, wasn’t he?

“Look, The last person who would have done that for me was-“

“Your father.”

“Interrupting is bad manners.”

“You’re a corrupting influence.” 

“Well my finishing school was a Republic prison so...”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I learned a lot there. Really drove Aurra’s lesson home. No sense jumping on the thermal detonator when the person I’m saving would just as happily turn around and shoot me themselves. Jango was the only person in the galaxy who would have taken the blast in my place. Never got the chance to find out obviously but... I’d like to think I’d have done the same for him.” He heard rustling as Lind moved closer to him. Maybe there was a case for pity after all. “Lind, I-”   
  


“I wouldn’t want you to stand in my place,” they said. “You don’t deserve to die.” Who was the hypocrite now? 

“It’s not about deserving anything. Everyone dies. Just don’t go looking for opportunities. I thought your covert had a survive at all costs mentality. Where’d they go wrong with you?”

“It’s not on an individual basis. If one death saves two, it is a worthy and honorable sacrifice. A hero’s death. They will live on in the people whose fate they took for themselves. The only true death is to be forgotten.” 

His father had said something like that to him once. Jango had a lot of sayings. He had always assumed his father had come up with them himself, but the more he had gotten to know Lind the more he wondered how many of them were actually old Mandalorian proverbs. Had Jango learned them from his mentor and adoptive father, Jaster Mereel? 

Boba hadn’t thought about Jaster in ages. Jaster had shaped Jango, and by extension Boba himself. He used to wish he could have met the legendary warrior who starred in many of his bedtime stories. Jaster had always seemed beyond human, but then again, that’s what a lot of people thought about Boba. He wondered what kind of man Jaster had been beyond his armor and ideals. It suddenly struck Boba that he was lying beside someone who might actually know.

“What do you know about Jaster Mereel?”

“He was an honorable warrior. Very dedicated to the Way of the Mandalore. Hated pirjanad and never lived down the shame. His death was greatly mourned. I think my grandmother was in love with him.” 

“You’re kidding.”  _ That  _ hadn’t been in his bedtime stories. 

“She’s never said so out loud. It wouldn’t be appropriate, probably. Her partnership with my grandfather was purely political. She didn’t even tell him we were leaving when she formed the covert. I think I know more about Jaster than about him. My buir said when she heard about Jaster’s death she locked herself in her forge for days. She blamed your father. Thought it should have been him instead. She was even more furious when she heard about Jango’s failure at the Battle of Galidraan. She says that’s where he let Jaster truly die. That his memory and legacy were forever disgraced, and Jango deserved his exile. I think that’s why she hates you so much. You’re all that’s left of Jaster’s legacy, but you have Jango’s face.”

“When I met her, she punched me right in my, and this is a direct quote, ‘filthy dar'manda face’. Damn near broke my nose.” Lind gently stroke his nose from the bridge to the tip, like they were checking for damage. Like they could have fixed it.

“Jaster commissioned her for Jango’s helmet when he came of age. All your armor is Balazs, now.”

“If things had happened differently... if Jaster survived and dad hadn’t lost that battle… do you think we might’ve still… you know. You and me. Maybe that old vibro axe would have wanted you to have what she couldn’t. Maybe arranged a Fett-Mereel-Balazs marriage.” He’d never considered things like marriage but he was starting to see the appeal. It would have been nice to feel like there was something that could really bind them together. Like they could last.

“Formal arrangements like that fell out of favor before the Clone Wars. Even if they were still a thing, there are all sorts of rules about birth orders, political alignments, reproductive capability… knowing Grandmother, you mostly likely would've ended up with Sasch.” Boba’s face twisted. So much for that fantasy. “Since we’re playing this fun little game of What If… let’s say Grandmother had defied her duty and married Jaster. We might have been siblings.” Boba gagged. “Tough decision. Infidelity or incest.” 

“I was trying to be romantic,” he grumbled. Lind laughed at him. “You’re a know-it-all and a wet blanket.”

“If you wanted a romantic answer, you should’ve told me to lie. Traditional protocol isn’t exactly steamy stuff.”

“How do you remember all this crap?”

“There’s a trick to it.” Lind suddenly sounded very somber, and they withdrew from him again. When they didn’t follow up on that statement Boba tried to lure them back into the conversation. 

“Must be useful. Think you could teach me?”

“Sorry,” Lind yawned. The attempted drowning must have really taken it out of them. He was starting to feel a hint of remorse. “It’s a clan secret. I’ll be in enough trouble with Grandmother as it is when she finds out about us. Not to mention all the armor I’ve made for you.”

“She doesn’t have to find out.”

“She will. She always does. Sasch is a tattletale and Tir has a big mouth. I could never get away with mischief as a kid.”

“What can they do to you? Really? Would you tell me if I pulled out the big guns and said ‘please’ all nice and mannered-like?”

“I don’t think we have the time, Boba,” Lind sighed. “It takes years of training and study. Everything has to be carefully taught and memorized in a specific way so the information doesn’t get warped during transmission.”

“What exactly are you memorizing?”

“History, laws, mythology, farming, wayfaring, armor and weapon smithing, recipes, folk songs, poetry, animal husbandry....”

“ _ Animal husbandry _ ? Really?”

“I know more about strill heat cycles than anyone should ever have to know.”

“Why don’t you just write it down and not worry about it?”

“What do you know about the Mandalorian-Jedi War? In the time of Mandalore the Great?”

“It was thousands of years ago. They won. We lost.”

“We?” Lind’s voice had a distinct smile behind it.

“I’m not gonna lump myself in with the Jedi. Don’t read into it.” 

“My clan developed the technique after that conflict, when we were all lost and wandering. Most of our people’s written records had been destroyed, and there was no permanent or safe place to house any of it except our own heads. It’s what we’ve been doing ever since. Remember, sing the songs, tell the stories.”

“Why don’t more people know how to do it?”

“Knowledge is power. So long as it’s exclusive, Balazs is too valuable for the other clans to make an enemy of.”

“ _ Politics _ ,” Boba grunted in disgust.

“Politics,” Lind sighed in agreement.

“Does everyone in your clan learn to do it?”

“No. My mother was trained, but she... left us.” There was a bigger story there, but Boba was pretty sure he knew what the ending must be. “After we became a covert, Grandmother had to accept that there wasn’t enough of Clan Balazs to safely preserve the tradtion. She selected a couple children from other clans in the covert to train alongside me and…” Lind’s voice caught. “...my cousins.” Boba had an inkling that story ended the same way as Lind’s mother. He tried to steer for safer territory.

“What about Sasch?”

“Sasch was deemed unfit. Her memory wasn’t precise enough.”

“Sasch wasn’t precise?  _ Sasch _ ?” He’d only met her once but the only word to describe her better than precise was frigid.

“I know. She could never pass the tests.” Lind got quiet for a moment. “Sasch told me the others have all either died or failed the tests. Grandmother won't be able to finish anyone else’s training before… you know. She’s old. Once she’s gone, it’ll be up to me to preserve it and pass it on. To remember.” 

This explained more than just Lind’s low mood the past few days. So much of Mandalorian culture and creed had already been wiped from the galaxy. This was why Lind was so opposed to leaving the covert, even at the cost of their own happiness. Losing someone like Lind at this stage could be catastrophic for the Mandalorians on a cultural level. 

If the Mandos went extinct, Boba certainly wouldn’t miss them much. That was just nature taking its course. Lind might get over it eventually, but not if they felt responsible for the collapse. They might even grow to resent Boba if he was the reason they didn’t fulfill their duty.

More troubling still was the army of hostile and highly skilled Mandalorians that already saw him as an enemy of the Mandalorian way. They wouldn’t be pleased if he tried to follow Lind to wherever it was they needed to go. Going off past experience, they’d kill him on sight. Or at least they’d try. He’d cause a lot of chaos and kill a lot of people before he reached Lind. Possibly people they cared for. Lind might not be so happy to see him by that point. Vytt Saxon hadn’t even been directly responsible for killing one of Lind’s foundlings, but they had no qualms about vaporizing him.

No matter what Boba did, Lind would never be his. The winner of the game had been decided before he’d ever even met them. All he had was a little more time left to spend with them. He hoped that would be enough. He knew it never would be. He was selfish by nature. He liked being number one.

“How long do we have before they call you back?”

“Could be months. Could be years. We can’t afford to lose all the ground I gained with Organa, and it could disrupt the covert’s entire supply chain. No one else knows all my contacts and routes. We’ve had satellite coverts that collapsed due to inexperienced or incompetent runners. If it comes down to saving tradition or lives, we have to choose lives. That’s why Tir was there the other day. Sasch is testing her out as a potential new runner.”

“ _ Her _ ? She’s not exactly subtle.”

“I know. I was surprised she was a candidate.”

“So…” He needed to lighten things up. Who knew how much longer he had with Lind? He didn’t want to squander it commiserating over the inevitable. He hated waste. “You’re basically a library on legs.”

“… yes? I guess so?”

“Explains why I like being around you, then. There was a library on Kamino. It was my favorite place to spend my free time as a kid.”

“Are you trying to say you’re attracted to my library-like qualities?”

“Some guys are into legs. Or lekku. I like libraries.”

“Not even like… a sexy librarian? Just the concept of a library?”

“Yeah.”

“Of all the possible degenerate fetishes a guy like you could have, that was not the one I was expecting.”

“Lind, when I die, you’ll remember me, right?”

“Boba, did we not just establish the overwhelming task of preserving my clan’s entire catalogue of knowledge? If you go and add one more damn thing to that list, I will piss on your grave every day for the rest of my life. Force knows, you’ve made enough enemies I’ll have to wait my turn.” He snorted. Lind scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Looked like hands were officially back in play. “But yes. I will remember you. Filed under ‘Di’kut’.”

***

Tippi was furious when she found out exactly what Fett’s “job” had been. She’d spent several sleepless nights tossing in her nest to find out they’d been splashing each other in some picturesque lake and drinking Hoth Chocolate.

She couldn’t be mad at Lind. They hadn’t known what he was up to either, and Tippi felt they needed some time to recover after what turned out to be a more upsetting than usual meeting with Sasch. Sasch hadn’t informed them Tir would be coming along for the ride.

Frustrated with him as Tippi was, she couldn’t really find it in herself to be properly mad at Fett either, and that was the worst part. She could smell what damage his own run in with Tir and Sasch had done. She’d expected a little more anger, but he had mostly been depressed and Tippi suspected it wasn’t all because he’d had his ass handed to him.

Fett was in a better mood when he dropped Lind off, but Tippi thought she could still smell melancholy on him. It was a muted undercurrent, like he’d accepted a harsh truth and was learning to live with it. Maybe Tippi was just doing what she always accused Lind of; projecting. 

It had been a long time since Sasch had left the covert and joined Lind for an actual mission, much less brought someone else along. Tippi had suspected there was something more moving beneath the surface of the situation, but she couldn’t see it clearly. It had smelled like trouble, though. When they returned from their little jaunt, Lind had filled Tippi in on their… promotion. There was an official countdown of their time left together. Tippi hated being right sometimes. 

In the following week, Tippi received two calls she wished she’d missed. The first was Sasch, calling Lind out on another mission for the covert. They were to be accompanied by Tir and use Sasch’s little ship. A snug fit for two considering they’d be gone at least five standard days. 

The second was from Fett. Fortunately, he didn’t ask after Lind so Tippi didn’t have to break the uncomfortable news about quality time with Tir in tight quarters. He asked Tippi to come meet him. On Tippi’s home planet. Alone. 

Tippi hadn’t been back to Chad in… well, a very long time. There was nothing left for her there but painful memories and a colony full of annoying cousins she had no interest keeping up with. It would have been an unbearably awkward family reunion anyway. They all thought she was dead.

Tippi found Fett down a shady alleway not far from the public records office. He was tossing something into a fire burning in an abandoned fuel barrel. He looked up at her, and gave his usual slow nod of greeting.

“Sorry to hear about your husband,” he said. “And the baby. She had your ears.” 

_ And her father’s fur markings,  _ Tippi thought. Where the hell did he get off digging into her business?

“What do you want?” she hissed.

“Insurance. Lind doesn’t need any more trouble than they already get themselves into. Especially not keen on someone else following up on any mysterious accidents at a classified Kuat shipyard. Real tragedy. Heard the whole facility was reduced to dust. No fuzzy little bodies left to identify.”

Tippi’s fuzzy little fur was standing on end. Even now that Palpatine was dead, she was sure there were an awful lot of people willing to pay a phenomenal sum to learn what had gone on in his personal starship testing and research facility. They’d pay double to know what employee could possibly have engineered such a disastrous explosion. Triple for how anything could have escaped the destruction and slipped past an Imperial blockade of three state-of-the-art star destroyers. However, they probably wouldn’t care much about the state sanctioned removal of two ‘distractions’ that lit the proverbial fuse. 

“What. Do. You.  _ Want _ ?” She repeated through clenched fangs. 

There were no records left of the Revenant’s construction. It hadn’t even been listed as an official project. It was merely a testing ground for new tech before it was refined and implemented into the actual final product. They’d called it the lab rat’s lab rat. Forging the legal documentation for it had been simple. Her own documentation on the other paw…

She’d slipped up badly. She should have known a low profile and convincing starship registration may be enough to fool an Imperial inspector, but not a man like Fett. 

He’d have to keep Tippi alive for the biggest possible payout. Tippi didn’t think he would lie to Lind about what he had done in the name of their safety. He may be a coldblooded killer, but he was honest. Would Lind forgive him? Would they risk the covert’s exposure and come to Tippi’s rescue? Probably not, but the hope of seeing Lind one last time would help Tippi endure being tortured for information.

“Real shame about the Kuat Driveyards systems,” he continued. “I couldn’t find what I was after. They had some kind of glitch. It erased a few year’s worth of personnel files. Recovery was impossible.”

A glitch? Big enough to permanently erase files? The sheer amount of redundancies and backup measures in Kuat’s record systems made such an event just shy of impossible. Unless that glitch was ‘accidental’... like the shipyard explosion.

“Doesn’t compare to the tragic incompetence of the Chadrian bureaucratic system, though.” Boba’s tone was growing more obviously theatrical. “Lots of clerical errors. Nearly impossible finding specific marriage licenses, birth certificates. Real mess. Someone deserves to be…” He nodded meaningfully to the burning barrel between them. “... _ fired _ . No flimsi trail makes disproving a death difficult.”

“You’d know all about disproving a death, huh?” He wasn’t turning her in after all. “Level with me, Fett. You don’t do charity, and I’m on a budget. What do I owe you?” 

He produced a bottle of cheap, ground tuber-based Chadrian spirits. Must have stopped in at one of the corner stores that littered the city. They were one of the few things Tippi actually missed about this place.

“Have a glass of this gut cleaner with me.” He pulled a shot glass from one of the large pouches hanging from his girth belt. He poured the clear liquid into it and handed it to Tippi. “That should just about cover expenses incurred during the investigation.” He fished out a second shot glass and poured for himself. 

He leaned down so she could clink their glasses together. It was a clean sound. A fresh start.

“To your gruesome and untimely death,” he toasted. 

“And to yours.”

They stood there for a long time watching the fire slowly dwindle to smoking embers and then, finally, to ash. Suddenly, Boba spoke again.

“I  _ am  _ sorry about your family.”

“I know.” Lind had told her about Geonosis. Watching the people they loved most being executed right in front of them was maybe not the most pleasant common ground to have with someone else. Worked out this time, though.

He plucked one more item from the pouch, even smaller than a shot glass. He held it out to her.

“Here. Didn’t think I should burn this.” Tippi took the tiny still image holoprojector from him and activated it. The image was grainy but unmistakable. Tippi cradled it in her paw very gingerly. She remembered when the midwife had taken this to submit to the census bureau.  _ Those ears. _

“Hey, Boba?”

“What, Tippi?”

“If Lind leaves and we never see them again… you can come move in with me.”

“Sounds horrible. Thanks.”

“I really hope it doesn’t come to that. I don’t think you and I will make it long term.”

“Which of us do you reckon will snap first?”

“Oh, definitely me.”

“Mm. That tracks.”

“Boba?”

“What?”

“I’ve stopped praying for your death before bedtime.”

“My urge to use you for target practice crops up less and less these days, Tip.”

“That’s damn sweet of you, Fett.”

***

Boba Fett didn’t like surprises. Never had. In his experience, they usually ended badly. He liked to be prepared for the worst. 

He knew the day was coming when he was going to lose Lind. He hated it, but that’s how life went. Or at least how his life went. Once they parted, he couldn’t protect Lind directly, but maybe he could still head off a few surprises before they popped up down the line.

He’d instructed his network of informants to keep an ear out for any rumors about a Mando in blue, a spooky ship, or a chadra-fan with an attitude problem. He’d cover tracks and erase any trace he could. Lind was good at finding trouble, so he would just have to make it harder for trouble to find Lind. 

Then there was the matter of Tippi herself. He’d known both she and the Revenant were shady from the start. If whatever lurked in Tippi’s past caught up to her it would catch up to Lind as well.

Ironically, his little inquiry had led him to exactly the sort of thing he’d been trying to avoid; a surprise. When the covert took Lind back, Tippi stood to lose even more than he did. Lind was her entire world. She had no career to bury herself in when they were gone. Misery loved company, and they both loved Lind, so he made a new friend.

After all of that, he thought it might make him feel better to get back into his routine. A real, paying job with no emotional baggage and a healthy dose of cathartic violence.

His inbox was never short on offers, so he took his time carefully picking the perfect one. His final selection was for a mysterious client on Ord Mantell. The description sounded too good to be true, which usually meant someone was setting a trap. That should give the job a little flavor.

As it turned out, there was indeed an ambush, but not the kind he’d prepared for. Sasch stood at parade rest so stiff it was almost Imperial grade in the dingy office where the secure transmission had told him to meet his mysterious new client.

“Boba Fett.” Looks like he wasn’t worth the effort of an actual greeting today.

“I take it the secretive client with deep pockets who invited me here isn’t gonna show. I thought the offer sounded fishy.”

“Your instincts serve you well.” Her tone was as politely neutral asbefore. Lind had promised she was human under the helmet but Boba had met more expressive gonk droids. He found it hard to believe they had been raised by the same people.

“You went through a lot of trouble just to talk to me. You could have saved yourself the trouble and had Lind set this up for you.”

Something stank.

“Again, you prove insightful,” she said. He had a childish urge to mock her formal tone. “I wish to discuss your relationship with Lind.” Made sense. Lind was the only thing they had in common that mattered. He nodded, silently urging her to continue. “I understand the two of you share a deep regard, but many in the covert are concerned this could ultimately prove detrimental.”

“You can tell ‘many in the covert’ to mind their business and rest easy. No one is going to track you through me.”

“You misunderstand. We are not merely concerned with the risk you pose to the covert. It is for Lind’s own wellbeing.”

“If I was going to sell them out I would have done it a long time ago. You know my reputation. I don’t waste time.”

“Again, your assumption is incorrect. I seem to have been too quick to commend your deductive reasoning.” He grit his teeth. She was insufferable. “Lind has grown very attached to you. They have always had a weakness for strays. They are so very… sensitive.”

It had sounded like she was going to say something else for a moment there. He was glad he had kept his helmet on. His face was probably an open datapad right now, right to the chapter on righteous fury. “You must know this little affair cannot last. Lind must be ready to take the next step in their life. The longer you remain a fixture, the more painful the inevitable separation will be for them.” Boba disagreed. It was far too late for it to hurt less. He hated Sasch. Maybe more than he hated Tir, which was a considerable amount. “If you care for them as you claim, I am sure you will spare them that pain.”

“Your concern is noted,” he mirrored their neutral tone as closely as he was able. “But I can’t help you. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Lind isn’t a child. They don’t need either of us making decisions for them.”

“It is not about their capabilities. Lind is important. They cannot afford to be compromised.They must be protected.”

“You mean they must be  _ controlled _ .”

“Watch your filthy mouth!” She exploded. He was vividly reminded of his run in with sweet old Granny Balazs. So Sasch had emotions after all. Good to know. A bit terrifying. “You are not the only one who loves Lind!” Tippi had said something like that to him once, too, but she didn’t have a flamethrower strapped to her wrist at the time. Sasch advanced on him and it took all his will power not to retreat.  _ Don’t show weakness to the enemy _ , Jango once said. She grabbed the collar of his flak vest and pulled him in so close their visors were nearly touching. “There is  _ nothing _ I would not do to keep them safe!” She gave him a violent shake for emphasis. “They are my family! What do you know about family? For all your reputation, you are  _ nothing _ . Lind will never belong to you!” If she was aiming to cause the most damage, she was an exceptional shot, but she hadn’t said anything he hadn’t already admitted to himself.

“Maybe so.” Seeing Sasch’s composure break did wonders for his own. He applied pressure to her shoulder until she let go and moved back out of his personal space. He could hear her breathing heavily. “But that’s not up to me, is it? Or you.” 

He didn’t bother to wait for her to collect her dignity enough for a rebuttal. He turned and left.

After that, Boba didn’t really feel up for another job. He sent the Revenant rendezvous coordinates. As a rule, Boba didn’t like sentimentality, but he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t hold onto Lind forever, but he could hold them for at least one night cycle. Besides, taking up their time would be the perfect way to spite Sasch.

He’d never really noticed how long the docking sequence took. He should overhaul his systems and fix the lag. Lind was waiting patiently for him on the other end. 

“Did you get that job you were after?” they asked.

“Nah. Turned it down. It was a bad deal. The client misrepresented a few key details in the offer. A real ass, too.”

“Sorry to hear.”

“Tippi said you just got back from a job. How did yours go?”

“Apparently, without a hitch.”

“Apparently?”

“I also was misled about my mission objective. There was no rations shipment, and Tir can’t keep a secret. She was told to keep me busy while you and Sasch had your little chat.”

“Oh.” Boba Fett _ really  _ hated surprises.

“What was it you just called my sister?” 

“He called her an ass!” Tippi yelled from the cockpit. 

_ That little traitor. _

_ _

_ Thank you once again to Cookiejuice for another hot meme!  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> Storm by Ruelle  
> Wait By The River by Lord Huron  
> Over My Head by The Fray  
> Without or Without You by U2  
> Be Mine (Live From Cherrytree House) by Robyn  
> Safe Ship, Harbored The Crane Wives


	10. Tooka Fiiiiiiight

When Leia had asked him to screen some potential new allies, Luke hadn’t been expecting Mandalorians. His only experience with them were the stories passed around cantinas that verged on the fantastical, the rarely seen fellow rebel Sabine Wren, and Boba Fett, who he’d been told only wore the armor for clout. 

Luke had sought guidance from Old Ben, who had urged Luke to keep an open mind. Ben said the Mandalorians were a complicated people, far from the singular pillar of violent uniformity one might expect. Those he had known personally were as fearsome as the stories claimed, but Luke should trust in their sense of honor.

Their connection had been waning as the old man drifted further into the Living Force, and Luke got no further explanation before he faded away completely. Luke took Ben’s advice with a grain of well earned salt. He got the feeling that, as always, there was something Ben was holding back. The Force whispered of great love and deep grief, just like when Ben had first revealed his connection to Anakin Skywalker. Luke just hoped whatever secrets Ben was keeping didn’t come back to bite Luke in the ass yet again. 

He allowed Leia’s people to set up the meeting, but insisted it only include him and a small delegation of the Mandalorian contingent. He wanted as few distractions as possible while he divined their true intentions. And if it all ended poorly, he would have fewer lives on his conscience. Too many good people had already been lost in the conflict with the Empire.

Leia had insisted he bring Threepio. His files on Mandalorian culture were both old and limited, but she wanted to make sure they presented themselves to the secretive group in the best light possible. If Leia’s mysterious contact was to be believed, the Mandalorians had potential to be an invaluable ally. A much better alternative to having them as an enemy.

Luke sat in the old military bunker on D’Qar, resting his chin on his fist as he regarded the live security feed. There were two Mandalorians in full armor waiting outside the gate of the compound having an argument. There was some garbled audio, but he couldn’t parse what was being said. According to Threepio, they were speaking in their native language, Mando’a

Going by the quality and fit of their armor, the tall one seemed to be of a higher status in whatever pecking order the Mandos followed. The shorter of the two wore a set of armor clearly meant for someone half his width and several inches taller. He seemed much more agitated than his companion. The short one stumbled over his words like he was out of practice.

It reminded Luke of Uncle Owen attempting to haggle in Jawaese despite his limited grasp of the language. It had never gotten him the discounts he hoped for. The short Mandalorian’s negotiations seemed to be in the same sinking sandcrawler. Luke wondered if he was a fresh addition to their creed.

“It seems they are waiting for a third companion.” Threepio paused, listening to what was being said, then cocked his head to the side. “My, how curious.”

“What is it, Threepio?”

“Well, Master Luke, my sensors detect distinct signs of familiarity and perhaps fondness in their body language. Yet they are utilizing vocal indicators of animosity. Not entirely unlike how Master Han and Mistress Leia communicate.”

“Great. So they’re emotionally constipated and heavily armed. Thanks, Threepio.”

“That is not quite the way I would choose to put it, but… that is correct, Master Luke. One more thing, if you do not mind, sir.”

“Yes, Threepio?”

“The argument seems to be centered around the safety of the individual wearing blue. They have made assurances to their companion that they are well trained in their clan’s traditional methods of… oh dear... Jedi termination.”

“That’s… good to know.”

“I cannot help but feel this meeting is foolhardy.”

“When has that ever stopped us before?”

“Alas, never, sir.” The droid did its best approximation of a defeated slump. “We’re doomed.”

***

“I wish I was wearing my own gear,” Boba griped.  _ Again _ .

“Well, I’m  _ sorry _ .” Lind was not sorry. He had been adamant about tagging along when he found out the meeting Sasch had arranged for Lind was with Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight and rebel hero. Lind had agreed on the condition he wear their spare set of armor. Considering his past Imperial associations, they didn’t think the rebels would take kindly to seeing Boba’s kit. “I didn’t have time to reforge the spare set to fit you.”

“If I’d known sooner then you’d have had the time,” he grumbled. “I’m still not sure what half of these gauntlet controls are even for.”

“Well just don’t activate anything you’re unsure about.”

“That’ll do us a lot of good if this goes tits up.” He sidled a little closer to them like he was worried they might get separated while standing still and only three feet apart.

“It’s supposed to be a diplomatic mission. Not a shoot out.”

“You can’t trust a Jedi,” he said, moving closer still. “They like aggressive negotiation almost as much a Mando.”

“Oh pipe down. I told you, I can handle it. Grandmother taught me every trick she knows for killing Jedi.” They were quick to add, “Not that I’m going to kill the Jedi.” They jabbed an accusing finger at his chest diamond. “And neither are you.” 

“Let me go in with you.”

“Absolutely not. Sasch would blow a gasket.”

“She’s not my boss.”

“She is if you’re insisting on being here in a... how did you put it? ‘Advisory capacity’?” They let Boba stew.

“Why isn’t Sasch coming?” he demanded. “Isn’t she supposed to be the political one?”

“She’s an alor’ad. She has other responsibilities. We’re not making any big decisions here anyway. It’s just an introduction.”

“Don’t you have someone better than Tir to be your backup? She can’t even be bothered to be on time.”

“We’re just early because  _ you _ fly like a maniac. Besides, we don’t have anyone better than Tir.” Boba made an angry little noise, and Lind clarified, “I meant in the covert. Nobody is better than you.” He leaned in as they gave his helmet a playful smack. “Di’kut.”

Tir arrived not long after. She greeted Boba with only the briefest of nods before firmly clasping Lind’s shoulder. She leaned her head down as an invitation for Lind to rise and meet her in a Keldabe Kiss. Lind simply returned the hand on shoulder gesture. 

Lind activated the tattletale droid at the front gate of what appeared to be an abandoned military base. The gently sloping roofs were overgrown with local wild grass, camouflaging them as rolling hills from above.

The heavy gate retracted, revealing two figures; a shining gold protocol droid and a man in a gray ensemble that was dangerously verging on robe territory. His face was unlined, serene, and retained the last vestiges of sweet, youthful innocence. His eyes seemed older than the rest of him. A gleaming lightsaber hilt hung prominently at his hip. 

So this was Luke Skywalker, the last Jedi. Lind had always imagined a Jedi to be older and fiercer. Lind wondered if he had been raised listening to the same stories but from a different perspective. How did Lind measure up to what he had imagined?

  
  


“I’m Luke Skywalker, Jedi Knight. I hope this meeting will be the first of many.”

Skywalker made a low bow of greeting. Lind had a brief but panicked internal debate over what the proper response was. Bowing wasn’t a common practice for Mandalorians, but maybe it was for Jedi? Where was the line between respectful deference and obsequious scraping? They didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot or present their people as weak. They settled for the same kind of deep, slow nod Boba favored, and Tir followed suit. 

It was his own move, but Boba stayed resolutely unmoved.  _ Rude. _ While they sympathized with his anxiety and resentment about the Jedi, he had also promised to behave himself. Would it be unprofessional to give his abdominal plate a good whack? He must have noticed Lind glaring at him because he gave a quick, barely perceptible nod at the last moment.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lind Balazs. My sister was the one who contacted the princess.”

“It’s actually just Senator or General Organa, now,” Luke corrected them. Lind cringed at their faux pas, but he didn’t seem offended by the use of an outdated title.   
  


“Good for her.” Was it good for her, though? Lind had no idea how general or senator compared to princess. Lind decided to try to move on as quickly as possible. They gestured to Tir. “This is a member of our covert, Tir Vizsla. This is…uh...” They hesitated. They hadn’t forgotten the backstory they’d made up for Boba, but the name was unfamiliar and Lind’s nerves were making it hard to be articulate. 

“Beroya,” Boba supplied. “Jango Beroya.” That certainly wasn’t the name Lind had suggested. Was he actually trying to pass off the Mando’a word for bounty hunter as an actual name? Skywalker’s eyebrows rose, clearly sensing something amiss. Boba lamely added, “I’m new.”

Skywalker relaxed a hair, seemingly accepting the explanation. Lind did not relax. They were too busy resisting the compulsion to stab Boba right in his kidney.

“Jango is our scout,” Lind continued. “He has orders to stand guard out here while we talk. Isn’t that right, Jango?”

“Yep,” was all he said. Lind was glad no one could see their face. It was twisted in what was likely the most aggravated expression ever made. Bless Grandmother’s helmet mandate. 

Skywalker angled his body and spread his arm toward the open door of the building behind him.

“Please come in. If you’d like, I can have Threepio stay here to keep Mr. Beroya company?”

“That’s a generous offer. We wouldn’t want him feeling too left out,” Lind said archly. 

As the three of them entered the building, they heard the droid introduce itself to Boba.

“Hello, I am See Threepio, human-cyborg relations. I am fluent in over six million forms of communication. Perhaps you would like to carry on our conversation in your native Mando’a while we wait? Although I must warn you, I may have some trouble with your localized dialect. I assure you that I shall do my very best, just as I was programmed! Your name is most unusual! My files do not indicate it is common to take your profession as a surname. Perhaps social conventions have changed since my files were written?”

Lind heard Boba groan before the doors shut behind them. Served him right.

Without invitation, Tir casually plopped down into the first seat she spotted and put her boots up on a nearby console. Lind was starting to wish they’d left her out there with ‘Jango’ instead of the droid. It was annoying but at least it had some semblance of good manners.

“So, you are the jetii that killed the emperor and his rabid attack dog,” Tir said as she gave Skywalker an appraising up and down.

“Well, it was a bit more complicated than that,” Skywalker replied.

“How is it complicated? They’re dead. You’re not. No need for false modesty. I have four red kyber crystals I took from the corpses of the Imperial Inquisitors I defeated.” Tir nodded toward Lind. “They have ten.”

Lind rolled their eyes. The Inquisitors’ unusual double sided sabers had been powered by two crystals each, though that was hardly common knowledge. Lind had only had to kill five Inquisitors for ten crystals. Leave it to Tir to exaggerate a brag by misrepresenting the statistics. 

Mandalorians had many useful strategies when dealing with Force users. For instance, lightsabers could deflect blaster bolts, but not a properly prepared physical slug that exploded on impact with the blade. Apparently, this was something the Empire’s dar’jetii had forgotten. Clan Balazs forgot nothing. 

For Lind, an Inquisitor usually meant a foundling was on the line. Their priority had always been the safety of the child, so the fights tended towards quick and unglamorous. It wasn’t much of a challenge to take down someone who had a face full of shrapnel. But to go up against a trained Jedi in a fair fight? Now that would be something to brag about. 

“How many Inquisitors have you killed, little jetii?” Tir pressed. She was worse than Boba trying to turn this into a pissing contest. At least he let his accomplishments speak for themselves. Usually.

“I’m afraid you two must have gotten most of them before I had my chance. You have my gratitude,” said Skywalker. How diplomatic. “You have a strong presence in the Force,” he said to Tir. She sat a little taller, placing her feet back on the floor. She’d always give praise her full attention.

“That’s not too surprising,” Lind said. “Tir is a descendent of Tarre Vizsla, the first Mandalorian to become a Jedi.”

“Would you be interested in following that legacy, Tir? I am looking to rebuild the Jedi Order. I could train you.”

Tir scoffed in a clear dismissal, but Lind interjected.

“I’m sure she’ll carefully consider your offer.” Un-feking-likely. Tir was stubborn and proud. “Our people may have fought in the past, but to adapt is to survive. This is the way.” Ugh. They sounded just like Grandmother.

“This is the way.” Tir echoed dutifully. “I’m not wild about the idea of being a celibate monk. Not really my style.” Tir shifted her weight towards Lind. Subtle. 

Tir had been uncharacteristically affectionate, protective, and free with her compliments. She was constantly finding excuses to crowd Lind’s personal space until Lind had to tell her to back off. This sort of behavior would have thrilled them once, but they had grown into a very different person in the intervening years. 

Lind hadn’t missed the convenient timing of Tir’s assignment as backup, or its implication. So far, Tir’s presence had been more hindrance than help on the missions, but Lind suspected that helping had never been her true purpose. Funny how Sasch had never felt that Lind needed an extra set of hands before Boba had started getting cozy with them. 

Boba grumbled over Tir’s presence on Lind’s missions, but he never actually tried to do anything to interfere. Despite his prodigious jealous streak, he seemed to accept that Tir wasn’t a threat to how Lind felt about him. Lind wondered if he realized where the true danger with Tir lay.

Sasch could recognize Lind’s hand in the forging of a pauldron, but Lind could recognize hers just as easily in a delicate political scheme. Formally arranged marriages may have been passé but politics and weddings were still fond bedfellows. If they were really going to attempt to rebuild Mandalorian society, alliances would need to be solidified to help reduce petty infighting. The Mandalorians didn't need a civil war. Again. 

Even before Jango’s disgraceful exile, an alliance with Clan Fett hadn’t been particularly sought after.The Fetts had barely been on the board in the Dejarik game of Mandalorian politics. Jango’s brief stint leading Mereel’s True Mandalorians had been the clan’s most influential moment by far. 

Meanwhile, House Vizsla had been one of the most prominent political factions for centuries. Considering Lind’s intended future role in that shiny, hypothetical new Mandalore, Tir would be a smart match.

As head of Clan Balazs, Grandmother would not hesitate to commit Lind to such a favorable partnership. Sasch, carefully groomed as a potential successor, seemed of the same mind. All these seemingly pointless missions were meant to foster camaraderie, if not romance. Lind wouldn’t be surprised if she’d directly ordered Tir to feign or exaggerate her interest in Lind. 

Lind knew Sasch was doing this because she cared for both the future of their people and her sibling’s happiness, but Lind still felt slimy about it all. They wanted to do their part, but they just couldn’t help feeling patronized and  _ used _ .

Lind tuned back into the conversation as Luke assured Tir that the new Jedi Order would not be implementing the same strict non-attachment policies its predecessor held.  _ Drat _ .

Lind finally managed to wrangle the topic of conversation away from Tir’s romantic prospects. Luke sat quietly as they explained the tenuous position and uncertain future of the Mandalorians. They could potentially stay in hiding indefinitely, but they were all homesick and craved stability. Unfortunately, they were also deeply wary of the New Republic and its claims of peace and protection. The Empire had promised the same thing before it tried to wipe them all out. They needed someone trustworthy with an inside perspective. Someone like Leia Organa.

Luke listened patiently, studying them with his sharp blue eyes. Lind could really believe he was capable of perceiving things beyond the material realm. They wondered if the stories of mind reading were true. Did he know that Lind actually wanted this whole thing to drag on indefinitely? Did he see how badly they yearned to stay with Boba and Tippi, even at the expense of their own people’s freedom? 

They’d never admit to any of it out loud. Not to Sasch, Tir, or Tippi. Not even to Boba. What would they think of Lind if they knew how selfish and callous Lind really was? Could Skywalker sense their shame? Lind imagined it must be hard to miss if he could.

Skywalker’s elbows rested on the inactive console in front of him, fingers steepled. He frowned as he mulled over what had been said. Then his brow un-creased and he sat up to face them again.

“I had some idea of your people’s situation, but I wasn’t familiar with the extent of it. You have my sympathy. I’ll talk to Leia on your behalf.”

Lind felt a surge of relief. It was done. They could stop worrying. At least for a while.

“Thank you, Knight Skywalker. We’re in your debt.” Now that they had accomplished what they’d set out to do, a new goal presented itself. “Could I ask one more favor of you?” 

“What sort of favor?” Skywalker eyed them with suspicion.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to fight a Jedi…”

Skywalker was less eager about an armed sparring match, but he agreed. He said he was sure fighting a real Mandalorian would provide him with many valuable lessons. 

Lind wondered about his phrasing.  _ A real Mandalorian _ . Had he fought a fake Mandalorian? Maybe one of Boba’s imposters, or even Boba himself? Hadn’t Hondo said Skywalker was part of the rescue effort for Han Solo on Tatooine?

It didn’t really matter. The past was long gone, Boba was only slightly worse for the wear, and Lind was about to fulfill a childhood fantasy.

***

Boba may have gotten off Tatooine alive, but he wouldn’t say unscathed. The sarlacc’s stomach acid had eaten through his flight suit and left burns spattered across his legs. It was hardly the worst scarring he’d sustained from an encounter with a Jedi, though. 

His relief seeing Lind leave the bunker evaporated when they told him they were going to have a sparring match with Skywalker before they parted ways. Their glee was as barely contained as Boba’s urge to vomit. He grabbed their arm. 

“Lind,  _ don’t _ . I have a bad feeling.”

“Master Luke is well disciplined!” C-3PO cheerfully chimed in. “I assure you, your friend will be in no real danger!”

“Thanks,” Boba said sarcastically. “That makes me feel  _ so _ much better.” 

“You are most welcome!” the droid replied cheerily.

“I promise I won’t use the Force so it will be a fair match,” the Jedi said.

“Skywalker,” Lind sounded as if they were explaining something to a child. “If you don’t use the Force there’s no  _ point  _ to this fight.”

Lind wasn’t wrong. Once the two of them really got going, it was evident that even with the Force in play it was a fair match. That didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Tir was cheering and laughing like Lind didn’t have a deadly energy weapon swinging at their head. Boba remained silent, his arms folded tightly across his chest. 

Boba was reminded of his own fight with the young jedi on Jabba’s skiff back on Tatooine. This was nothing like that. Skywalker’s attention had been divided between his numerous opponents and protecting his friends. Meanwhile, Boba had only been trying to incapacitate him. 

Skywalker had clearly been practicing, and Lind had heeded their grandmother’s old war stories. Half trained Inquisitors were a far cry from a proper Jedi Knight, but the principles were the same. They kept up a steady barrage of blaster fire and physical blows that prevented Skywalker from actively reaching for the Force, but he had a counter for every move Lind made in return. The rapid flash and spin of the lightsaber and deflected blaster bolts almost looked like a festival light show.

It reminded him of his father and Kenobi on Kamino. Of Geonosis. Boba remembered hundreds of ignited lightsabers and Trade Federation battle droids battling their way across the sand. At ten, he’d thought the spectacle was awe inspiring and even beautiful. Now all it made him feel was nausea. 

The green blade seemed to flash purple for a moment as it swung upwards towards-

“LIND!!!”

Just like last time, he was too far away. It wasn’t possible to cross the distance and stop the strike but he had to try. This couldn’t happen again. Not to Lind. He wouldn’t let it.

Tir grabbed him around the shoulders and dragged him back. He struggled to break her firm grip, but she had her arms wrapped around him like an electroeel with a water-mouse.

“Whoa there, vod! Look, look! See? Everything is fine. It’s alright.”

It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t back in that sandy arena and Lind’s head was still safely tucked inside its helmet on their neck where it belonged.

The humming green blade hovered against their throat, but Lind had their blaster’s barrel pressed to Skywalker’s sternum at an angle that would probably take out his heart and brains with a single bolt. Even without a head, Lind’s death spasm would tighten their finger just enough on the trigger pad. If this had been a real fight it would have been a draw. A deadly, nightmarish draw. 

Skywalker and Lind lowered their weapons. Lind began gesturing excitedly at Skywalker’s saber hilt. One of Lind’s hobbies was attempting to recreate the legendary Darksaber that had belonged to Tarre Vizsla. They often complained to him about their failed experiments with the Inquisitors’ kyber crystals. He had little doubt that’s what Lind was so rapturously discussing with the man who had almost beheaded them. He hoped Skywalker wouldn’t give them any new ideas about laser swords. Lind had almost blown themselves up five times so far as it was.

Watching Lind going off on a ranting tangent was familiar. It was safe.  _ They _ were safe. Boba sagged and Tir loosened her grip. She patted him on the back like he was a child before calling over her shoulder.

“Hey, Goldie!” 

“Do you mean me?” The protocol droid asked, tilting its entire upper body in an approximation of a quizzical look.

“Yeah, you. Could you give us a minute here? Alone?”

“Of course! My apologies, I had not realized I was intruding upon a private moment!” 

The droid toddled off toward Lind and Skywalker. When it was a safe distance away Boba exploded.

“How could you just sit there and watch that?” He preferred rage to relief. His anger got things done. Always had. “He could have  _ killed  _ them!”

“I trust Lind’s abilities. Don’t you?” It wasn’t an admonishment. Tir sounded genuinely confused by his strong reaction. 

“Ability only goes so far! You just need one tiny thing out of your control to go wrong and then-” Boba dragged his thumb violently across his throat.

“Oh. Yeah, guess you’re right. Pretty sure there’s a saying about that.” Tir sounded so calm. So reasonable. He  _ hated  _ her.

“I’m sick of sayings,” Boba fumed.

“Yeah. They do get tiresome after a while.” Boba grunted. “Want a snack?”

“Think I’d better leave the bucket on.”

“I didn’t think you cared about that.”

“I don’t. This is supposed to be a disguise.”

“Does Skywalker know your face?”

“No...”

“So no big deal. Here, have some uj’alayi. It’s my own recipe. Not as good as Sasch’s, but I had fun putting my own twist on it. You should try making some. It’s oddly satisfying. Therapeutic.”

Boba removed his helmet and took the tightly wrapped slice of cake Tir had pulled from beneath her flak vest. He wondered if she was adhering to the tradition of carrying the slice as a good luck charm or if she just liked having a convenient snack. He took a bite and was immediately filled with searing regret.

“I put a little pirjanad in with the syrup. Gives it a real great kick!”

Boba thought he would have enjoyed it more if Tir had actually just kicked him in the head. The strong flavors didn’t play well off each other, and he was already not a fan of spicy food. Not that he’d ever admit that to a Mandalorian. They didn’t need another more personal flaws to smugly dangle over his head. 

“It’s… something else,” he wheezed.

“Unexpected, right? Daring! No one else makes it this way.”

“Can’t imagine why.” 

Boba’s tongue felt like it was pressed flat against a heated grill. How much sauce did Tir use? The whole karking bottle? No wonder the covert kept running out.

He was grateful it was just a small slice as he forced himself to finish it. Boba Fett would die before admitting he wasn’t the toughest guy in the cantina. They sat in silence for a while. 

“Lind says the galaxy is changing,” Tir said. Boba tried to appear casual and contemplative as he pressed his fist to his burning mouth, desperate for any kind of relief. “Foes yesterday, friends tomorrow.”

“Thought we were done with proverbs,” he mumbled into his knuckles.

“Been hanging around Old Granny Balazs too long I guess. She’s full of them.” Boba grimaced. He didn’t want to waste anymore thought on that old hag than he had to.

“She’s full of something alright.”

“Not for much longer,” Tir’s helmet dipped low, suddenly very somber. “The other day she asked me to pass her some uj cake. Only she forgot the word. She doesn’t forget things.”

“Oh.” What else could he say? He’d hoped he and Lind would have more time than this. He bet that old mynock had started going senile just to spite him personally.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Tir said. “But once they figure it out, they’re gonna call Lind back to take her place.” Tir tensed, cearly realizing she might have said something he wasn’t supposed to hear. “...uh… did Lind tell you about that?”

“Yeah, Lind told me. The library… memory... thing.” Something didn’t add up. “Don’t you want Lind to go back to the covert? With you?” He tasted bile. Spicy bile.

“I…” Tir hesitated. How unlike her. “I would like it if Lind came back. I’ve missed them.”

“Because you’re in love with them,” he accused. Lind didn’t believe Tir’s feelings had truly changed, but Boba needed to hear her admit it out loud before he could rest easy.

“Yes. I am,” she said quietly. He’d been right after all, but there was no sense of vindication. He’d wanted to be wrong so badly. The only thing worse than Lind leaving was Lind replacing him. “You’re in love with them too.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t want to believe that. I wanted you to be a selfish bastard who would break their heart, and they’d come running home to me. That whatever you two have didn’t mean anything.”

“I  _ am _ a selfish bastard. I want Lind to stay out here with me forever.”

“Would you try to stop them from going home?”

“No. I’ve got no business being with them anyway. They’re important. I’m not.”

“When it comes to Lind… I’d say you kind of are. Important, that is.” Huh. Tir was full of surprises today, and this one was actually welcome. _ Important. _

“How do you figure?”

“Well… at first, I was on board with Sasch’s plan. She wanted me to win Lind back from you. I was so excited to be out on assignment alone with them. I don’t think we’ve ever been alone together before. Even as kids we’d play in a group. I knew they’d changed since then, obviously, but I didn’t expect them to have changed _ that _ much, you know?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn’t, would you? You weren’t there back then. I’m not sure how to describe it. They seem… confident? Sort of? It’s like they’re ready to stand and face the entire galaxy alone if they need to. I don’t remember them being like that before. They were always chasing after me or Sasch or their grandmother. It was sort of annoying how they’d try to get us to look at them. Now everything’s backwards. I’m the one chasing them, but they won’t look at me. It’s  _ awful _ .”

“Lind told me no one gave them the time of day until they were  _ useful _ .” Boba squeezed as much acid into his voice as he could. “Thought no one would care if they left because who would ever want someone  _ weak  _ like them?” Boba threw Tir’s own words back at her. She had the common decency to hang her head.

“I hurt them very badly, didn’t I?” 

Tir sounded so forlorn he almost felt sorry for her. Almost. He remembered how Lind had broken down, fully believing he had taken them to that hotel out of convenience rather than a genuine desire for them specifically. She didn’t deserve sympathy or sugar coating.

“You did.” He may have no business loving Lind, but by his estimation, Tir didn’t either.

“Lind seems happy with you,” Tir said. “You’re good for them. Tippi, too.”

“Happiness doesn’t matter. Lind’s got a job to do.” That bile now had a bitter flavor under the lingering pirjanad.

“Now  _ you _ sound like Granny,” Tir gave him a half-hearted punch to the shoulder. He’d have punched her back and much harder if he thought she wouldn’t tattle on him to Lind. “You know, Fett… I don’t think I’m ever going to be the right person for Lind. I made them think they weren’t strong because they weren’t like me. I think they fell for you because you just don’t care.” Boba leveled a furious glare at Tir who was quick to amend, “I didn’t mean that in a bad way! I just meant you didn’t need them to do anything special to prove they were worth looking at. If Lind had stayed with us, I think we would have just… crushed them until there was nothing left.”

“Like badly forged beskar.”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Tir placed a hand on his shoulder. “I think Lind’s right about you. You’re not so terrible.” He shot her another intense glare, but it seemed like it was losing its effectiveness. She gripped his shoulder firmly and leaned in. It was a bad idea to headbutt a beskar helmet with his bare forehead but  _ oh _ , was it tempting. “If you ever wanted to join up… you know, take up the creed for real… I’d speak for you, Boba Fett.”

Boba didn’t know how to respond to that, which was just as well because they were interrupted by the thrum of an activating lightsaber. Tir nearly jumped out of her armor. 

“ _ Fett _ ??” Skywalker sounded furious. Damn, those Jedi could really sneak up on a guy.

“Oh dear!” exclaimed the protocol droid in great distress. “Boba Fett?  _ Where _ ?”

No sense lying to a guy who could read minds. He stood up and turned to face the Jedi. 

“The one and only. Volunteered as a consultant seeing as I have some... relevant experience. You’re improving with the lightsaber.”

“You led the Empire to my friends! You sold Han to Jabba as a  _ wall decoration _ ! You tried to kill me on Tatooine!” 

“Knight Skywalker,” Lind sounded like they were doing a firm but bad imitation of Sasch. “ _ Please _ disengage your saber.” 

“It was just business. Nothing personal.” It was a reflexive response. He’d said that line thousands of times to thousands of targets across the years. It was usually fun to see how it rankled them, but Skywalker didn’t need anymore rankling. In fact, Boba would prefer him to be significantly less rankled while Lind was standing so close to him. “I hear you went and did my job for me. Vader must’ve been thrilled when you turned yourself over. Hope they at least paid you for it.” It wasn’t much of a joke but he hoped it would make it clear that he wasn’t a threat. At least not today.

“They did!” Tir crowed. “With their very lives!”

Boba shook his head disapprovingly and made a  _ tsk _ noise with his tongue.

“That’s a bad deal. You can’t spend that kind of currency.” 

Skywalker still looked livid, but at least his green blade disappeared back into its hilt.

“Considering our… history… I’m surprised your people let you come.” He threw an accusatory look at Lind. Boba wanted to rip his pretty baby blues out of their sockets.

“He’s not part of the covert,” Lind said quickly. “He’s not supposed to be here. He’s… he’s with me.” Good old Lind. Throwing themselves under the speeder for the good of the covert. 

“With you?” Luke glanced suspiciously between Boba and Lind. Boba wondered if he could sense how Boba felt about Lind. He wondered if that would help or hurt Lind’s case.

“Lind was nice to him one time so now he follows them everywhere!” Tir chimed in. “Like a devoted little tooka.” She patted him on the head like an animal. He certainly wanted to bite her hand like an animal.

He wondered if she was trying to help him defuse the situation or if she was actually just oblivious to the tense atmosphere. Either way, every half-formed favorable thought he had about Tir was officially scrapped. 

“He has a bad habit of following people he shouldn’t, doesn’t he?” Skywalker glared at him. Boba shrugged.

“It’s why they pay me the big bounties, friend.”

Skywalker’s eye twitched.

“What are you really here for?”

“It’s like Tir said. I’m a loyal little tooka.” Skywalker folded his arms. They both knew Boba was more Nexu than anything else.

“The only loyalty you have is to credits. You believe in nothing and stand for nothing. I know your reputation. Mandalorians don’t need bodyguards and you certainly don’t speak for them. So I ask you again. What are you really here for?”

As a general rule, Boba liked to keep his personal business close to his flak vest. His air of mystery had a big effect on his reputation… the very reputation that was about to blow all the credibility Lind had worked so hard to build today. If he didn’t salvage this he wouldn’t deserve the trust they had placed in him. 

Lying was a crap shoot with a Force user and joking around sure wasn’t cutting it. The only option he had left was honesty. If there was one person in the galaxy who would be able to recognize his sincerity, it was a Jedi.

“The great thing about credits is you can always just get more. That doesn’t work with people. I’m here because I want Lind safe.”

“Lind was never in any danger,” Skywalker said. “The Jedi are peacekeepers.” Boba barked a humorless laugh right in Skywalker’s stunned face.There was no point holding anything back if he wanted to be as transparent as possible.

“You weren’t alive to see the Jedi or the Republic in action. They were as bad as the Empire and Vader. They just weren’t as honest about it.”

“That’s a lie!” 

“C’mon, Skywalker!” Boba mockingly waggled his hand in front of Skywalker’s nose. “Use the Force! I’m not lying, and you know it.” From the frustrated grimace, Boba could tell Skywalker definitely _ did _ know it. “The Jedi destroyed families. They took children.”

“We take children…” Tir interjected weakly. Tir was many things, but an effective mediator was not one of them. 

“Yeah, Mandos like to pick up the odd war orphan here and there. You don’t make some kid a military commander of a slave army at fourteen.”

“They wouldn’t-” Skwalker tried to interject again.

“They  _ did _ . The Jedi padded out their cult with stolen children then sent them to die on the frontlines of a pointless war.”

“That’s…” Luke’s face was pale. This was obviously news to him. The Empire had really done a number on the Galaxy’s history curriculum. Good thing Boba was largely self taught. 

“Those kids were the lucky ones. You know where they put me after they cut my father’s head off while I watched?” He heard Tir shift uncomfortably beside him. He knew what the Mandos said about Jango and how he had died. Was she reevaluating how funny all those jokes actually were? “Let’s say I really was an unredeemable little criminal at eleven. What would it take for you to look a grieving child in the eyes and lock them up with convicted murderers and worse? Check the records at Imperial Center if you don’t believe me. That prison is still active.”

Luke was visibly disturbed by his tirade. Maybe he’d thought Fett had just popped into existence fully formed, callous, and greedy. 

“I... didn’t know.” How could he? Not like he was blaming Skywalker for assuming the worst of him. It was hardly as if Fett encouraged anyone to sympathize with, much less understand, his motivations. He was harder to predict and easier to fear if he was an unknowable entity.

“Stow it. I’m not after an apology for something you didn’t do and can’t fix. What I need is assurance that you, your new Order, and your bloated, shambling corpse of a government will never harm Lind. Can you promise me that?”

“No,” Luke said, solemn-faced. “I can’t.”

“Well then,” Boba said. “There’s your answer. That’s what I’m really doing here.” Boba crowded into Skywalker’s personal bubble and jabbed a finger into his chest. He was irked that Skywalker had a few inches on him, so he had to tilt his head up to maintain eye contact. Kinda killed the intimidation tactic. “So let’s amend that request. If you keep that lightsaber away from Lind’s neck and fulfill every promise you made to them today, I’ll keep my little tooka claws to myself. Deal?”

Luke held his gaze before slowly nodding. Boba stepped away from him.

“Neither Leia nor I are interested in faithfully recreating the old systems,” Skywalker said. “We won’t deny they were flawed, which is why they failed to begin with. We’re striving to do better. To help people. If it is within my power, I will make sure what happened to you never happens to anyone else.” Kriff, it sounded like the fool actually  _ believed _ that. Skywalker was a child trying to appear older and wiser than he was.

“Pretty speech,” Fett said. “But I can’t say I have a lot of faith in the staying power of lofty idealism.”

“Well,” Lind interrupted, clapping their hands like the sound would scare away the lingering tension. “That was a fun little ideological debate. So if we’re all good here, we should just... go.” 

“Oh?” Boba said, turning to them with an expression of mock curiosity. “Which of my mortal enemies are you rushing off for a date with this time?” Lind snorted.

“One little disagreement doesn’t make someone your mortal enemy.”

“He cut my EE-3 in half, Lind. You know how I felt about that blaster.”

“What are you talking about? Your EE-3 is fine. I just saw you cleaning it the other day. Thought you were gonna sing it a lullaby before you put it back in the cabinet.”

“That was the spare. It’s not the same.”

“You had two?”

“How don’t you know that? You’ve done work on both.”

“Boba, they must have been identical for me not to notice they were two totally different blasters. You’re way too sentimental.”

“They’re out of production, Lind.”

“Will it make you feel better if I finally let you borrow the pulse blaster?” Fett narrowed his eyes. 

“...maybe.”

Lind turned back to Skywalker.

“It was very nice to meet you. I hope this,” they whacked Boba’s breast plate with the back of their hand, “doesn’t dim your view of our cause.” 

Skywalker made a shallow bow and bid Lind a very stiff goodbye. If he didn’t have a clear view of it hanging from the belt, Boba would have thought Skywalker had shoved the lightsaber up his own ass.

***

Luke watched Lind Balazs walk away with Boba Fett in tow. He had sensed Lind’s internal conflict during their talk, but the source of it had been an unwelcome revelation. Lind seemed honest in their intent, but how could he place his trust in someone who had placed theirs in  _ Boba Fett _ ? No tragic past could outweigh the man’s violent and fickle nature.

Tir clapped a large hand on Luke’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to worry,” she said. Luke was surprised that Tir had read him so well. Leia and Han said his Sabacc face had improved the last few years, and Tir didn’t seem like a very observant person to begin with. He wondered if she’d unconsciously picked up on his mood through the Force. “I trust Lind with my life. You can, too.”

“I’m not sure about that. Hiding their involvement with Boba Fett doesn’t reflect well on Lind.”

“Fett and Lind are kind of a complicated situation.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Luke sighed.

“No, you’re not getting it. Let me think how to say this... I’m not good with explaining stuff.” Luke imagined her face must be scrunched up with intense concentration beneath her helmet. She didn’t seem to know how to do things any way other than intensely. “The thing with Fett is complicated but Lind is simple. All they want to do is help people. The rest of us.. I mean the Mandalorians… we saw Fett as this big personal insult. Like he was being a dishonorable thug just to make us all look bad. Lind looked at him and saw somebody in need.” Luke couldn’t help a disbelieving little huff.

“In need of what? More credits?”   
  


“Don’t get me wrong. Fett’s still Fett. He’ll go however far he has to to protect what he values. You’re probably right that he doesn’t really care about the covert or your New Republic unless we shell out some cold hard credit chits. Thing is, I think we’ve all got his number wrong. I don’t think it’s about money. Not anymore, at least.” 

“You think it’s about Lind.” Tir nodded. “I sensed a surprising depth of feeling in Fett. I wasn’t expecting that from someone with such a selfish view of the universe.”

“Yeah, he’s not really a big picture kind of guy. Neither am I. Never really thought I’d have so much in common with him. He’s even in love with the same person as me.”

“He’s _ in love _ with Lind?” The idea that a man like Boba Fett could care about someone else was already foreign. But  _ in love _ ? That was so bizarre it was nearly laughable.

“You can tell he has a ‘surprising depth of feeling’ for Lind but not what the feeling is?”

“That’s not really how the Force works.”

“Your mind reading blows. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Look, I don’t know a lot about Fett but I think his childhood wasn’t too different from mine. Lots of running and hiding and fighting. When you grow up like that, it changes how you look at things. You know what I mean?”

“No. My childhood was pretty boring. Stable.”

“So you could look at how things were and think about how they could be better. How you could  _ make _ it better. Yeah?” Luke recalled how much time he had spent on Tatooine watching the setting suns and dreaming of what he’d do once the season ended.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Well, we didn’t have much time for that.. We had to either accept things as they were and adapt or we died. At least I had the covert to protect me. I think Fett was on his own a lot.”

Han had expressed that kind of sentiment to both Luke and Leia over the years, but Luke hadn’t really understood it until for a long time. Tir had managed to explain it in such a simple and concise way, and Luke wished she’d been there when he was nineteen and watching the Millennium Falcon take off from the hangar at the Yavin IV base. He had been furious and too naive to understand how Han could just take his credits and leave them as Death Star approached. Luke had looked at the battle station and seen a responsibility to make the galaxy a better place if he could. Han just seen yet another crisis he had to escape until the next one inevitably popped up in a never ending cycle. There was no time for idealism when all you knew was survival. 

Tir was more perceptive than she seemed. He really needed to stop making snap judgments about people.

“What about Lind?” Luke asked. “Are they like you, too?”

“Yes… and no.” Tir said. “They’re somewhere in the middle. I’m a footsoldier. They were raised to be leadership, though I don’t think they’d have picked that on their own. It doesn’t really suit them. They can see the big picture but they just… don’t know how to tackle it. So they do small things. Like clean up your armor for you when it gets dirty or broken. They’re not out to change the entire galaxy, but they’ve made a habit of trying to leave things a little better than how they found it. Even if the thing they find is a bounty hunter with the hygiene and disposition of an angry Ylesian reek.” Maybe it was a little mean spirited but Luke couldn’t help it. He laughed. Tir continued, her voice soft. “Lind wasn’t meant to be a leader but I still want to follow them. They make me believe there's more to life than just surviving it. I think Fett knows the feeling.”

In the distance, Luke spotted a menacing and familiar ship take off into the atmosphere. Luke had seen that ship several times under much more dire circumstances, and his gut clenched instinctively. Luke sighed. He had given Darth Vader himself the benefit of the doubt. Why was it so hard to do the same for the pilot of that ship?

“I hope you’re right about that, Tir.”

***

“Ah, Boba Fett! So good to see you. It has been a while!” Xin clasped his delicately manicured hands over his heart. Fett would read this as pure artifice, of course, but the truth of it was Xin’s joy was not performative. 

He was genuinely thrilled to find that Boba Fett was not dead. Again. He had started to worry when the bounty hunter had seemingly vanished for several weeks. Xin had a very specific hope about what he’d been up to, and he prayed Fett’s unusually relaxed posture was a sign that he was correct.

“I’m looking for information,” Fett said, monotone as ever.

“Aren’t you always? You nosy thing! Come into my office. Sit, sit! Can I interest you in a drink?” He could never interest Fett in a drink, but he couldn’t live with the rudeness of not offering.

“Yeah, sure,” Fett said. He sat down in a chintz armchair across from Xin’s desk and set his helmet on the caf table. Xin stared, uncomprehending for several moments. Perhaps he was having some medical crisis of the brain. He was getting on in years, after all. 

All this time he had been imagining that face unweathered as it had been when the bounty hunter had first entered The Parlor, eyes wide and mouth hanging open so that Xin could practically see what he’d last eaten. That boy was much changed, his face now gently lined by a life of worry, savagery, and grief. His eyes were sharp and knowing. This felt like he was meeting Fett for the first time all over again. 

“Perhaps some tea?” Xin thought he had managed to hide how shaken he was. How excited. This was a sign. 

“Sure. Miss me with the whiskey shot, though. I need my wits today.” 

Xin chuckled as he plucked a second cup from his personal set he kept displayed on his shelf. He poured Boba’s tea from his own little kettle, which he always kept within easy reach on his desk. His husband had purchased him the little warmer it sat on as an anniversary gift some years ago. So practical. So thoughtful.

“Your little friend said nearly the same thing when they visited me the first time. Tell me, how is Lind? I have not had the pleasure of their company for a good while.” He handed Fett the delicate cup. It looked nearly comical in his rough, gloved hands. Xin arched a suggestive brow. “Perhaps you have been keeping them busy, hm?”

Fett maintained eye contact as he slowly took a sip of the tea. He made a show of savoring it, delaying his answer.

“They’re fine,” he said at last.

“I do hope the two of you have been getting along. I rather like them. You know…” Xin took his own slow sip. Two could play at this game. No, not simply could, they  _ should _ . It made it all much more diverting. “I received this little tea set as a wedding present. I do love weddings, but it’s been so very long since I’ve been invited to one.” He gave Fett the most innocent look he could muster. Fett’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps, this will change soon…?”

Boba looked away from Xin to the little cup in his hand. His thumb stroked the delicate filigree decorating the edge of the lip

“I don’t think we’re the marrying kind,” Fett said. Xin wasn’t a betting man. His husband would never allow it. However, he would lay out real credits that the both Fett and Lind were, in fact, the marrying kind. It would be a sound financial investment even his husband could not argue against. He was sure the arrangement would be a tad unconventional but… “We don’t have enough time left together to make the cost of divorce worth it.”

Oh my. That sounded ominous. Xin could practically hear his husband’s voice urging him to stop inserting himself into other people’s business. He remembered his conversation with Lind, and the scab he had so callously peeled back before it was finished healing. He thought perhaps he should take that prudent advice this time. His husband would be so proud of his restraint. Even so, he couldn’t leave it completely alone. That simply wasn’t his nature.

“I think I heard somewhere that just because something does not last does not mean it was not worth having in the first place.” 

Xin mirrored Fett and gazed at his own reflection in his tea. He had witnessed Fett at his most vulnerable once. He really should allow him some privacy this time.

***

Boba hadn't meant to start a hostage situation in a family restaurant. He didn’t have a whole lot of choice when his mark had ducked into the cramped eatery while trying to shake him. The rear access door was apparently jammed, and the mark had found himself trapped between a hot grill and Boba’s blaster. 

Boba didn’t care for civilian casualties. His profession was already messy enough, and he didn’t need any local governments or neighborhood watch groups putting a bounty out on  _ him _ . 

The mark, Nal Griesk, had no such qualms and capitalized on the varied selection of convenient living shields available to him. He grabbed a young twi’lek girl. When the chaos erupted, she’d placed herself between the danger and the two adults who Boba assumed must be her guardians. They couldn’t have been her birth parents. Two blue twi’leks were genetically incapable of producing offspring in that vibrant shade of orange.

Fett got the feeling this wasn’t the girl’s first wild ride. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen standard years, but she was cool as could be considering she had the muzzle of a blaster pressed to her neck. . If it weren’t for the obvious little tell of an intermittent tremor of her lower lip, Fett might have thought the girl simply didn’t care about her predicament. A kid should never have to be that tough. She was wearing some odd sort of necklace. It didn’t look like the traditional twi’lek jewelry her female guardian wore, but it had a familiar shape he didn’t have the time to place.

“Let her go, and I take you in warm, Greisk,” he told the mark. “Kill her and I’m carbon freezing what’s left of you.”

“How ‘bout you let me and my new girlfriend walk out of here together and you stuff that rifle up your-” 

They weren’t the most memorable or original last words.

Fett’s first shot hit the opposite shoulder from the one holding Griesk’s blaster. The impact knocked him and the girl he was holding backwards at an angle, but inertia kept his arm and blaster right where they were at the start. Griesk’s whole plan hinged on Fett wanting the kid alive so his finger had been loose on the trigger. It didn’t fire until it was clear of the girl. The shot made a nice hole in the plaster wall. Nothing some spackle and paint couldn’t fix. Maybe a nice framed art holo or a banner if the owner was lazy.

Fett’s second shot got Griesk solidly in the forehead. He landed on his back with a heavy thud, still clutching the little twi’lek to his chest as if he still had a use for her from beyond the grave. 

It was over in seconds, but it still took a couple more for everyone to register what had happened and for the adult female twi’lek to scream hysterically and run over to pull the girl off the corpse into the safety of her arms. Between her sobs, Fett could hear her angrily ranting in Ryl. 

“What were you thinking? We’re your parents! We’re supposed to protect you, not the other way around! Don’t you ever do that again! Are you listening to me, Tula?” 

The girl didn’t seem fazed by the lecture. Her gaze was fixed on Boba as he knelt beside his mark, inspecting his pockets for the priceless but tiny artifact Griesk had stolen from the private collection of a Black Sun vigo. 

If Griesk hadn’t kept it on his person it would be a real hassle to figure out where he stashed it. Boba was contractually obligated to bring the statue, which was no bigger than his pinkie finger, back to the vigo intact. He had to flip the guy over but was relieved to find the bauble in a small pouch at the back of his belt. Lucky break it hadn’t been made of a more fragile material. Griesk had landed directly on top of it.

“Do you know Lind?” It took him a moment to understand the question was directed at him. He looked warily up at the girl, Tula. How did she know Lind?

“I know a Lind.”

“And Tippi? Do you know Tippi? She’s about this tall, I think.” Tula had pulled away from her mother and held her hand about a meter off the ground in a rough approximation of Tippi’s height. Her mother was watching this exchange with large, frightened eyes. She kept throwing looks at her partner in a very clear but unspoken _ , Do something about this! _

“The Tippi I know is a little shorter than that.” Tula shrugged. 

“I was a little shorter, too, when I met her. Do you know how to find them?”

“Why do you need to know that?” He wasn’t giving out any information about Lind and Tippi’s whereabouts, even to a seemingly innocent child. He’d once been a seemingly innocent child. They could be devious little monsters.

“They saved me once. I never got to thank them properly.” That definitely sounded like Lind’s modus operandi. “Can you give them something for me?”

“Sure,” he said warily.

Tula dug through the little cross body bag she wore and produced three hand carved interlocking wooden pieces. He recognized them as sections meant for a kalikori, a traditional twi’lek sculpture used as a family heirloom to be passed down and modified as the family grew. These looked about as inexpertly crafted as the necklace Tula wore. She must have made all these things herself. She held the kalikori pieces out for Boba to take.

“I know I’m probably not gonna see them again, but I’ve been carrying these around with me. Just in case.”

He accepted the lopsided little bits of wood with more reverence than the priceless gem stone fetish he’d carelessly tossed into one of the pouches on his belt. He didn’t know the circumstances they’d met under, but it had clearly left an enormous impact on Tula. This was a declaration of a familial bond. These wonky little blocks would mean the world to Lind, who he was sure remembered Tula with the same fondness they held for all their foundlings. Even the ones they didn’t get to keep.

“I’ll make sure they get it.” It finally dawned on him what her necklace reminded him of. The T shaped visor of a Mandalorian helmet.

“I heard Jabba the Hutt got killed. Was Lind the one who did it?” 

“No. Some rebel princess.” Being choked to death was a nasty way to go, but honestly, it was a mercy compared to the method Lind had described in gory detail. He didn’t know a whole lot about child rearing, but he didn’t think any of that was appropriate to share with a minor. “...he got off lucky.”

Tula nodded, smiling happily like they were discussing the latest gossip about her favorite holostar and not the gruesome murder of a crimelord. 

“I have something for you, too,” Tula said. What could she possibly have for him? He liked credits but it would be way too awkward taking her allowance money. “You’re going to have to promise to share it with Lind and Tippi when you see them, though.”

“Sure…”

Boba was prepared for just about any situation… except being warmly embraced by a pubescent while an entire restaurant of people looked on in ill-disguised horror. He was pretty horrified himself, honestly. He stood as still as possible, arms raised slightly at his sides to avoid touching her. He didn’t know what else to do. 

When she finally let him go, Tula’s father grasped her shoulders and started to try and steer her away from the heavily armed mercenary who had demonstrated he was fully capable of murder mere minutes before. Tula was not having it.

“Do you think you could help me with one more thing? Lind gave me some kind of cake. It was the most amazing thing I ever ate. Do you know what it’s called?” Oh good. This he could handle.

“Sticky? Lots of dried fruit?” Tula lit up like a reactor core.

“Yes! That’s it!” 

“Uj’alayi. It’s a traditional Mandalorian dessert. There’s recipes for it all over the holonet.” He hoisted the corpse over his shoulders. He’d better get going before this guy really started to smell and put everyone off their dinner. Before he left he turned back to Tula and added, “Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but the secret ingredient for Clan Balazs’ Uj cake is just generic spiced nillia syrup. You can get it in just about any convenience store in the mid rim. Shuura syrup is better if you can find it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack  
> Hold the Line by Toto  
> Love Is A Battlefield by Pat Benatar  
> Bad Blood by Bastille  
> Ask The Lonely by Journey  
> Send Her My Love by Journey  
> When I Fall by Barenaked Ladies


	11. Nothing Personal Part 2 Electric Boogaloo

Boba woke early, as he always did, in a strange place, which also wasn’t unusual considering his line of work. It was pitch black, and it took him a moment to remember where he was: Lind’s bunk, wrapped around them like an Umbaran vixus. The first time he’d woken up that way he’d been surprised at himself, though he really shouldn’t have been. He used to hang all over Jango, constantly demanding to be picked up or held. It had been so long since he’d sought comfort through touch, and he’d just assumed it was a childish phase he’d outgrown. Turned out he’d just needed the right person to harass. 

Boba pressed his face against the nape of Lind’s neck. He deeply appreciated that their hair was largely buzzed off. He’d woken up choking on someone’s ponytail once and been lucky his gagging hadn’t roused her before he could make his escape with his tattered dignity. Looking back, he probably should have left a note at least. She’d been a nice girl. Bought him dinner. 

He would never tell Lind about it. They’d either start growing their hair out purely as an elaborate joke or track down the girl, wherever she was, and make him apologize. Probably both. 

Boba thought Lind’s sense of justice sometimes bordered on parody, but he found he didn’t mind it much. After all, he wouldn’t be here without that foolishly indiscriminate grace. He would never understand it but he appreciated it. 

Looking back to that first meeting, he thought he might have been screwed the moment they’d offered him that damn painkiller. All that earnest concern and generosity for a man who didn’t deserve it.

He had one leg hooked over theirs and an arm around their waist. He tightened both and pulled them closer. They made a sleepy sound of protest at the disturbance but he could tell by their steady breathing they hadn’t woken up. He sort of wished they had. They were always irritable first thing in the day cycle, and he enjoyed tormenting them. 

Like the cuddling, something about Lind brought out a childish mischievousness he hadn't realized he’d held on to. Maybe it was because both of them had such abbreviated childhoods, and now they were making up for lost opportunity. He wondered who he might have been if he’d had Lind as a playmate back on Kamino. He wondered who he’d become once they left him behind. 

Even as pressed together as they were, he felt like he could never get as close to Lind as he wanted to be. He didn’t appreciate the ache forming in his gut, so he disentangled himself, and gingerly climbed over them. He stubbed his toe on the waiting bench as he fumbled for the door panel.

He liked being on the Revenant when Tippi and Lind were nearby but too unconcious to gang up on him. He could savor a rare sense of companionship uninterrupted by their relentless endeavors to take the piss out of him and poke holes in his ego. Tippi insisted it was for his own good, but Lind owned up to simply enjoying the schadenfreude. 

The ship and its crew may have been peaceful, but Boba needed more than peace in that moment. He needed a distraction, and the Revenant’s hallway provided it in spades. It was an unholy mess of spare parts, shipping crates, and loose debris.

He turned the lights up enough to see by and started organizing things into piles. He figured Tippi could go through it later and pick out what might have actually been important before he spaced it into the event horizon of the nearest black hole. By his estimation, he’d have to fill and eject the airlock at least twice to get rid of it all. 

The thought of a clear, open hallway gave him a hit of the serenity he’d been after. His maintenance droid was rarely used and not just because it was a hassle transporting it to the different levels through the Slave I’s central access shaft. He genuinely enjoyed the act of cleaning. It was probably the closest thing to a hobby he’d had for most of his life.

He supposed it had something to do with control issues and an external expression of his longing for an impossible galaxy where he was safe and things made sense. He’d read a theoretical psychology publication on the subject once when he’d gotten really bored between gigs. To be honest, he thought it all sounded a bit too simplistic, but what did he know? He wasn’t the one with a doctorate and a team of psych droids backing him up.

He was really starting to enjoy himself as he debated in which pile a discarded piece of plastoid casing belonged. Of course, pleasant and calm things never lasted long for Boba Fett. 

He was rudely interrupted by the furious twittering of Lind’s MS-E droid. He really wished he’d put on his boots as MS-E began repeatedly ramming his ankle. Lind thought this habit was somehow endearing, and Tippi refused to rewrite the behavior module. 

The little mouse droid had never forgiven him for killing its former master. He’d tried explaining that Lind was the culprit behind Vytt Saxon’s disintegration, but it just didn’t seem to penetrate MS-E’s simple logic circuits. In all the galaxy, there was no love to rival MS-E’s for Lind. Not even his own.

It was beeping out a furious rant about how Boba had spent the night recharging in Lind’s quarters. That was MS-E’s designated charging station! Now Boba Fett thought he could take MS-E’s job? He wasn’t even doing it right! Brute! Villain! 

For something that could only express itself in simple binary, it had a surprisingly poetic grasp of language.

Boba dropped the casing in favor of firmly gripping the droid and lifting it into the air so he could look at it, eye to optic sensor.

“Would you cut it out?” MS-E revved its motor to express its ever increasing dissatisfaction. “Would you leave me alone if I took you down to the hold?” MS-E’s wheels slowed, and it made a little contemplative blip sound. 

MS-E loved zipping around the hold but Tippi had banned it from being down there unsupervised because it kept getting stuck in odd places. It would sound its distress siren until it either ran out of juice and powered down or whoever was within earshot of the repetitive, piercing noise couldn’t take it any longer. 

There was nothing wrong with its spatial ident grid. Tippi had checked. Boba was unconvinced that the droid was actually misjudging all those tight spaces. Lind always fussed over  _ poor little MS-E _ after it was rescued. Little con artist. If he thought Lind would pet him like that he’d wedge himself between some shipping crates, too.

MS-E was still debating the benefits of sacrificing its moral standards by accepting a bribe when one of the panels in the wall retracted.

According to its blueprints, the Revenant only had one room serving as living quarters. It had a two tiered bunk, but Lind used the upper one for storage. It was a practical use of limited space and added to the illusion of single occupancy if they were boarded. It was officially labeled as the captain’s cabin, but Tippi referred to it as the crew’s quarters. The real captain’s cabin was a tiny compartment hidden behind the wall panels lining part of the hallway and cockpit, just above the average human’s head. This was where Tippi had made her nest. 

Tippi groggily poked her head out, wincing at the unexpected brightness of the hall.

“Could you two pipe down? I’m trying to-” Her eyes must have adjusted to the light because they widened in alarm at the sight of the half cleaned floor beneath her. “What did you two do to my ship??” 

MS-E trilled,  _ MS-E is innocent of all wrongdoing! Engaged in attempt to stop designation: Boba Fett! Criminal! _

“Just throw me under the landspeeder, why don’t you?” Boba growled at it.

“Fett, that was strategic! Everything had its optimized position!”

“So why do you never throw a fit when things get shifted because we all keep bumping into it?”

“That’s the point! It throws off the Imperial inspection teams!”

“Tip, there aren’t any more Imperial inspection teams. They’re out of business.”

“We still don’t know what the New Republic’s deal is yet! Better safe than sorry, only now you’ve ruined it!” She groaned, covering her face with her paws. “It made me feel better having it there.”

“It’s all still there. Just toss things around a little and you’ll have a mess again when I leave.” Tippi glared at him.

“Why wait?” She vanished back into the wall for a moment before returning with a handful of detritus from her nest. She began hurling bits at him with great accuracy and surprising force. Fett managed to block most of it with his hands and arms. He could already feel the little bruises forming.

Tippi suddenly gasped and the hail of bolts and balls of wire ceased. 

“I didn’t mean to throw that paneling screw! I needed it for a project!” 

Fett immediately started scanning around his feet for the errant screw.

“Hang on a second,” he said. He spotted where it had rolled down the hall towards the cockpit. “There’s the merchandise.” He scooped it up and handed it back to Tippi. “That would have been a lot harder if there had been junk all over the floor, wouldn’t it?”

It wasn’t that long ago she would have retorted with a vicious zinger like, _ If you’re so good at finding things why don’t you find the airlock and space yourself? _

“Thanks,” was all Tippi said.

The drink they’d shared on Chad had shifted their dynamic in a slight but vital way. Her gratitude was genuine with no trace of sarcasm. 

“What’s going on?” Lind had appeared, wearing only their undergarments and helmet. Seeing them like this never lost its novelty for Boba. It felt like they were letting him in on a well guarded secret. Lind leaned groggily against the doorframe like they were incapable of being upright without support. Their helmet moved left to right, taking in the scene. “Why does the hallway look bigger?”

“Perspective. You’ve shrunk without your armor on,” he teased as he came up to them. He put his hands around their waist and tried to maneuver them from leaning on the doorframe to leaning on him. Tippi made a little noise of disgust.

“Gross. I’m going back to sleep.” Her wall panel snapped shut behind her. MS-E was of the same opinion. It took advantage of Lind’s open door and retreated to the safety of its charging station hidden in a corner behind Lind’s forge.

Boba started to try and walk Lind back to their bunk, but they found their fight just in time to thwart him. Looked like there would be no more cuddling this morning.

“Boba, if I lay down I’m never getting up again. We both have jobs waiting on us.”

Boba grumbled a little but he couldn’t argue. No matter what life threw at a guy, he still had to get up and go to work. He had a big one lined up, too, and Lind was expecting a call from Sasch with new marching orders. 

“Wish the client hadn’t insisted on in-person mission briefings only,” he crabbed. “That’s how they like to sneak in little extras for free after they’ve locked you into the contract. If the job didn’t pay so well I wouldn’t take it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t take it regardless,” Lind said waspishly. His client was a former moff turned local warlord after the Empire’s collapse. Lind was very sensitive whenever he took jobs with overt Imperial alignment. It was part resentment of his crooked priorities and part concern for his well being. They’d lost a lot of people to the Empire, and they didn’t want him to be next. But the remnants of the Empire had credits, and Boba had bills to pay.

“Look, official Imperial presence is gone from this entire sector. The guy is one bad policy away from being overthrown by the locals, so I might as well get paid while the paying is still good.” 

Lind wrapped their arms around his waist and pressed their foreheads together.

“I still worry,” they said.

“We’ve got more to worry about from the New Republic than some ex-Imp chasing former glories. But if you’re really that concerned…” He reached past them for the control panel, shutting the door and extinguishing the already dim overhead lights. “Why don’t you give me a kiss for good luck?”

“I’m not falling for that again.” 

Considering their overall personalities, it seemed contradictory that Boba craved touch while Lind was much more sparing with it, but that’s how it was. Boba often tried to turn one little kiss into more, but Lind lacked interest in most things beyond the kissing. He was used to taking care of himself, so he didn’t really mind. 

The teasing and the chasing had become more of a game than proper foreplay. He knew Lind enjoyed the ritual of the pursuit. It reminded them that they were wanted. Sometimes, they let him win. The victory tasted sweeter when he felt he’d earned it.

“Don’t you want me back in one piece?” He asked. As MS-E had taught him, guilt was a primary motivator for Lind. He was careful about it though. Lind had a bad habit about feeling obligated, and Boba preferred their attention given freely and on their own terms.

Lind removed their helmet and lingered over the kiss, even gracing him with a few quick additional pecks before reluctantly pulling away.

“Di’kut.” 

They held his cheek in their hand for a moment longer before putting their helmet and the lights back on so they could both get ready. Boba thought the room had felt brighter when the lights were off.

***

The cockpit stank with Lind’s fretting as the glowing thrusters of the Slave I vanished into hyperspace. Tippi leaned over and lightly smacked their arm.

“Relax. He’s done this sort of thing a thousand times. The Empire loves him.”

“Darth Vader loved him,” Lind muttered. “But Vader’s dead.”

“Vader’s protection wasn’t really worth much. Didn’t he like strangling his own bridge crew?”

Lind sighed heavily. Tippi snatched the little air freshener aerosol she kept in a little compartment beneath the main steering console. She spritzed it in Lind’s general direction. It didn’t actually cover the scent or directly solve the problem in any way. It was a lighthearted proof of point that sometimes cracked Lind’s bad mood. It wasn’t enough this time.

For once, Tippi was relieved when the alert for an incoming comm request lit up. Lind accepted and the little blue projection of Sasch flickered into existence above the console.

“Hello, Lind. Tippi. I am pleased to see you both are well.”

“Hey,” was all Lind said. They sounded so morose. Sasch made no comment and plowed onwards with the mission details.

Tippi wondered if Sasch genuinely didn’t notice Lind’s abject misery or if she simply had no interest in acknowledging and engaging with her sibling’s angst. Tippi wondered how someone who insisted she loved Lind could ignore their obvious need for comfort. Lind gave so much for the covert and Clan Balazs. However small or ineffective, didn’t they deserve the same kind of investment in return?

It incensed Tippi. One day, she was going to lose her cool and maul Sasch. Maybe it was uncivilized and reflected badly on her species, but Tippi wouldn't apologize. Her only regret would be that Lind might be upset with her for trying to gnaw Sasch’s fingers to unusable stubs. To a mechanical engineer like Tippi, there was no worse punishment than losing the ability to use your hands.

“...I am sure your usual boarding methods will suffice,” Sasch was saying. Apparently this was an ambush and extraction, like that Guild job a few years ago with the Pykes. 

Tippi remembered how Lind had delivered Tula from that freighter, and then the little kalikori pieces Tula had ‘hired’ Boba to deliver back to them. The pieces were dangling above the Revenant’s main console like the pair of lucky golden sabacc dice Lind said Solo kept in the Falcon. 

Apparently the ship they were boarding belonged to the Imperial remnant. They’d be more likely to find armed stormtroopers than a frightened child. Instead of coaxium, their target was a case of kyber crystals that the Imperials were trying to smuggle out of the sector to their allies in the unknown regions.

“I shall be sending you the coordinates from which the ship is scheduled to make its jump. Organa’s sources indicate it is not a standard military model, but a Corellian corvette class vessel the Empire impounded several years ago. Apparently, it once belonged to House Organa, and the princess has-”

“Senator,” Lind interrupted. “She’s a senator now. Or general.”

“Yes, excuse me. I misspoke. The senator has generously provided us with the blueprints which I shall transmit to you now along with the coordinates.”

A light on the console blinked to life when the data transmission arrived. Tippi activated the display and the CR90 corvette was projected beside Sasch.

“Received,” Tippi acknowledged.

“Very well. Leia Organa feels the recovery and return of these crystals should help us curry favor amongst the New Republic’s leaders as well as herself. This gesture of goodwill is critical. Lind, I trust you to perform your duty to our people and our creed above all else. Our future depends on your success.” 

Sasch ended the transmission there. No inquiry whether they needed any other resources or information. No wish for Lind’s safe return. 

“What are we waiting for?” Not a fond farewell apparently. Lind had straightened their back, visor up, ready for the fight ahead. So long as they had a clear purpose, they didn’t have to think too hard about anything else. Tippi wondered how they managed to compartmentalize like that. She wondered how much longer Lind could function splitting themselves up. What happened if they couldn’t bring it all back into one piece again? “Punch in those coordinates and make the jump calculations. Time to get to work.”

The corvette appeared right where Sasch had promised, just past the small moon orbiting a modest mid rim planet. 

It began just like the Pyke mission. Tippi breached the corvette’s hull, jammed the comms, and Lind dropped in. Tippi watched the tracker Lind wore beneath their left breastplate disappear off the scanners as they left the Revenant for what the blueprints named the Tantive IV. What the hell even was a ‘tantive’ and who needed four of them?

All Tippi could do now was wait while Lind did all the hard work below. She hated the waiting. It reminded her of exactly how helpless she was outside the Revenant. She wasn’t trained the way Lind was, and chadra-fan were a physically delicate species to begin with. As much as she’d like to be, she couldn’t help Lind out there. So she waited.

Tippi was almost relieved to have a distraction when the Revenant intercepted an incoming transmission from what must have once been the Imperial base on the planet below. Superficially, it was a local government complex, but it was still staffed by Imperial loyalists and men in stormtrooper armor.

If they were breaking their radio silence, this must be important. Tippi played the message. The projection wavered and then coalesced into a distinguished looking older man wearing a rank badge indicating he had once been a moff. 

“Our mole in the New Republichas received confirmation that this operation has been jeopardized.” Tippi felt like her blood had frozen in her veins. “It may not be the Jedi intervention we had feared, but it could be just as dire if our sources in the outer rim are to be believed. Organa has enlisted the assistance of the petty bounty hunter and rogue Mandalorian Lind Balazs. We know very little of how they orchestrate, but what little evidence they have left behind indicates their methods are efficient and brutal. It is likely they will come for you soon, if they have not already. This individual is too dangerous to be taken alive.” The moff’s professional veneer dropped and his thin lips curved into a wicked little smile. “I should very much like their helmet for my trophy wall. Leave the body to rot.” 

Tippi didn’t wait to hear if there was any more to the message. There wasn’t time. Lind had just dropped in there completely alone to face a well armed welcoming committee that had known to expect trouble. Lind could be dead already.

Tippi restored the comms. She needed to hear Lind’s voice, kriff the risk. 

The Revenant’s comm successfully connected to Lind’s helmet, but the audio was garbled and kept cutting out. The static bursts sounded like damage from some kind of ion weapon.

“---Tip---pinned dow---blasters drained---I can’t---tell Bo---” 

Then the signal went completely dead. The helmet’s internal system must have crashed and was struggling to reboot. Lind was trapped down there without any energy based weapons. No blasters, no jetpack, no energy shield, no flamethrower, no dart launchers. They didn’t even have the element of surprise. They still had their vibroknives, but with their power sources drained they were just regular knives incapable of piercing heavy material like armor no matter how good Lind may have been. It was the old folksy adage of bringing a knife to a blaster fight but horribly literal.

But worst of all… Tippi had just allowed the transmission for the kill order to go through. All the systems down in the Tantive IV would take about fifteen standard minutes to reboot, but that was all. Tippi had no idea what type of ion weapon had been used. There was no guarantee Lind’s weapons would come back online before time was up, if they came back at all. 

Tippi abandoned the cockpit and ran to Lind’s quarters. She was grateful Lind was more organized than she was. She grabbed the smallest spare blaster Lind had and one of the whipcord launchers that hadn’t yet been installed into a gauntlet.

Tippi nearly slipped and fell down the ladder in her haste to get to the boarding hatch below the cargo hold’s floor. She fastened the end of the cord to an exposed pipe and began her descent into the ship below. Tippi only had thirteen and a half minutes left. She had better make them count.

***

Boba crouched in a protected recess in the hall that led to the cockpit of the Tantive IV. The long distance comm unit the client had provided was a real piece of junk. He’d been fiddling with it, trying to clear the static now that the signal was unjammed.

He’d lost contact with the other half of his motley team of stormtroopers and cheap mercenaries about a half hour before. Even after the sounds of blaster fire erupted at the other end of the ship, he’d kept his own team hunkered down, protecting the cockpit where the payload of kyber was stored. 

Something about this attack was alarmingly familiar, and his gut told him to play it safe until he knew more. Sooner or later, their mysterious assailant would be forced to come to them if they wanted the prize.

His team currently consisted of two truly hopeless Imperial pilots, three filthy stormtroopers, and a fellow bounty hunter looking to build a name for himself before joining the Guild. What lofty aspirations that one had. He’d ordered them all to keep their blasters trained on the end of the hallway.

At last, the comm unit connected and a signal came through with his new orders from the client. Boba’s heart sank. He’d really been hoping this was all a coincidence, but deep down he’d known better. He regretted giving the other team those ion blasters. Lind wouldn’t have taken so long dispatching them if they had access to their full arsenal. All the blasters distributed by the client were DNA locked, so Lind couldn’t even steal one.

There was no way he could have known this would happen. Neither of them had had access to the details of their respective jobs before Boba had left that morning. He still wanted to take his helmet off and bash his stupid, unprotected skull against the wall until it cracked.

The timing of it all was too perfect. No wonder his client had been so insistent on hiring him to lead the team. Who better to defend against a Mandalorian than another Mandalorian? Or at least, close enough to one.

The client had claimed not to know the identity of the potential saboteurs but Boba hadn’t bought it then and he especially didn’t buy it now. Knowing his opponent would be someone like Lind from the outset would have raised his already exorbitant fee. Naturally, the client had covered his ass with a very specific clause in the contract that Boba deeply regretted signing for more reasons than just lost credits.

Suddenly, One of the stormtroopers raised an alarm and they started firing. Lind must have arrived and taken cover because he couldn’t see them when he glanced past his alcove. This ship had a ridiculous amount of little nooks and crannies. It was difficult to get a clear shot once someone dug in. It seemed like none of his men were interested in getting close enough to find out how Lind beat seven armed men without blasters of their own. Maybe these idiots were a little smarter than he’d pegged them.

Boba was about to give the order to ceasefire when he remembered they’d all just listened to the same message he had. There was no way they would obey him over the client.

He reviewed his options. He could break his contract here and now and leave with Lind. He balked at the idea. He was a lowlife but he had his own twisted integrity. The closest thing he held to sacred were his job contracts. He’d had clients renege, but he’d never personally broken one before. There’d be no payment, a new enemy, and potentially an end to his reputation and career. 

His other choice was to pull the ‘nothing personal’ card like he had during the job where he’d found Lind with Solo on the Falcon. This was important covert business if the New Republic and Organa were involved, so he’d have to throw the job and let Lind escape with the payload. He could live with the paycut and the hit to his spotless record.

The problem with that plan was that being convincing enough to fool the client and his teammates would pose a serious risk to Lind’s continued quality of life. He couldn’t communicate or coordinate with them like they’d done at the B’Omarr monastery, and he couldn’t control any trigger happy goons. Even idiots got lucky sometimes, as Boba knew from experience. There were too many variables out of his control. 

The odds were good that he’d get Lind killed and be paid in full for it. Boba had promised Tippi he’d let her kill him if he ever hurt Lind. He’d hand her the pulse rifle himself. It was supposedly one of the most painful ways to die. Some said you would be conscious long enough to feel your atoms exploding. It was still better than he’d deserve.

Without warning, the grate covering a vent in the ceiling crashed to the floor ahead of them. He’d heard urban legends about spirits and beings from other dimensions that would manifest when you thought of them, but he’d never pictured them looking like Tippi. She leapt down from the vent holding a blaster far too big for her. As she descended, she made eye contact with Boba’s visor. From the look on her face, she hadn’t expected to meet him here either. 

The other bounty hunter had good reflexes. While she was still in midair, he punted her out into the middle of the hallway towards Lind, right into the line of fire. Boba saw several shots from the stormtroopers make contact with her body before she hit the deck with a small thud.

Tippi started seizing from shock and Boba heard Lind scream. They abandoned their cover and made a rush on Tippi’s position, relying on only their beskar and stuttering energy shield for protection from the blaster fire. 

Lind’s chances of survival were growing slimmer but Tippi’s were even worse. She may survive the trip to a medical facility. Even though a chadra-fan could hang on for up to three days with only one functioning heart, he doubted that was the case for someone who had sustained injuries as severe as hers. The shock could stop her two delicate hearts at any time.

He just stood there, watching it all unfold like he was an unarmed ten year old on Geonosis again. He was going to have to hold Lind’s empty helmet the same way he held Jango’s. Then he’d have to hand it over to the man who’d ordered their execution. Maybe the client would want Tippi’s ears as trophies as well. The same ears as her daughter... 

Lind had almost reached Tippi when their energy shield finally gave one last flicker and failed. They were hit solidly in the chest with a blaster bolt. It was deflected by the beskar breast plates, but it knocked them off their feet.

Boba wasn’t ten anymore and he wasn’t unarmed.

He fired six shots in rapid succession until all six of his men lay on the deck with blaster holes in the backs of their heads. Dead center.

Lind had crawled to Tippi and was cradling her convulsing body. He approached on shaky legs and knelt down in front of them. When Lind registered Boba’s presence he was glad they had their hands full and no working blasters. They were beyond furious. Boba just felt numb.

“Why didn’t you stop them? Why didn’t you do anything??” 

“There’s a medical facility on the planet. We need to go. _ Now _ .”

They abandoned the kyber and the Tantive IV. As Boba piloted the Revenant back towards the spaceport, he thought maybe some scrappers would stumble over the wreck. Let them have it. At least then someone would be having a good day.

All activity in the reception area of the medical center ceased when they entered. Boba grabbed the nearest being who looked medically inclined. 

“You a doctor?” The insectoid stammered but couldn’t seem to find his words so he nodded instead. He was a Geonosian. Ironic. They’d been there to witness the last time he’d thought he was having the worst day of his life, too.

“You know who I am?” The doctor nodded again, even more vigorously. “My friend needs treatment. You’re going to give her the best. Do your job and I won’t have to do mine.” More violent nodding before Boba released him to commandeer a stretcher and a team. 

Boba caught the beginning of a hushed conversation between the doctor and one of his much more collected colleagues.

“I’m not letting you go into surgery with your pincers shaking like that. What’s the worst he’s really gonna do?” she scolded.

“Malpractice suit,” he buzzed. She snorted in derision.

“Coward. What’s the patient? A chadra-fan? I’ll comm the mammal specialists, you find someone from cardiology.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Get sued out of your own carapace by an angry bounty hunter…”

They vanished down a corridor as two medical droids attempted to transfer Tippi from Lind’s arms onto a stretcher. Boba had to gently pry their hands from around Tippi’s trembling body. Their upper body was coated in her clear blood.

Lind and Boba followed behind Tippi’s stretcher as the droids brought her to the diagnostics lab. Boba hadn’t spent a lot of time in proper medical facilities, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t permitted. Didn’t seem as if anyone felt brave enough to educate two heavily armed Mandalorians on standard procedure. 

They watched from behind a transparisteel partition as the hovering nursedroids buzzed around Tippi, taking readings and making injections while the two doctors from earlier discussed a course of treatment in grave, hushed voices.

He had been offered triple his usual rate for this job. It struck him that there was no multiplying factor in existence to make the job worth watching the medical droids submerge Tippi in a bacta tank. 

Her fur drifted in the gentle flow of the gelatinous liquid. She looked so peaceful. His gut clenched. Tippi was a ball of kinetic energy and snark who had never in her life been accused of serenity. 

If Tippi died in that tank he had no doubt Lind would make sure he was the next occupant. They’d leave him alive of course. Death would be too kind. 

Lind would never forgive him and he would deserve it. He could have stopped it happening, but he had hesitated like a coward. This was on him. 

He turned and left Lind standing by the partition. They didn’t try to stop him. They both knew he was worse than useless there. Boba Fett was a man of action, and there was only one course left to him. 

The client was reclined behind his spacious, antique desk when the squad of stormtroopers escorted Boba into the office. He made a tsking sound and gestured to the wavering security footage being projected over his desktop. Boba watched himself execute his six business partners over and over on a loop. The client must have had a recovery team ready and waiting. 

“Such traitorous action. I would never have expected this from a man of your carefully curated reputation. Breaking your word. Turning on your own partners unprovoked. Abandoning your sworn mission for… what was it? A noble cause?” He waited for an answer or an excuse. Boba gave neither. “Surely not love!” Boba felt his fists clench. He was annoyed to see one of his old tells make a reappearance. The client, however, seemed thrilled to see Boba betray himself. “Surely not! I’d hardly think  _ you _ capable of such… tenderness.” He chuckled as he advanced the footage with a swipe of a finger. Boba was now watching himself kneel down in front of Lind while they held Tippi’s body. “What a terrible shame to see a once great man go soft. I had always heard you were such an obedient servant. So very loyal to the cause.”

“No. Just to the credits.”

“Perhaps you should have reconsidered your loyalties better, then. The Empire will rise again, more glorious than ever before, by my own hand.” Pompous windbag. “Sadly, it seems you won’t have a place in it.” 

The client raised his hand to signal the stormtroopers to fire, but stormtroopers were rarely known to be quick on the draw. The Whistling Birds didn’t have the same delay. He counted each body as they thudded against the plush carpeting.

Boba didn’t know if he’d have a career, a lover, or a friend after this was all said and done. But he did know one thing. The key to a snappy one liner was the timing.

“The Empire is dead,” Boba Fett said right before he pressed the trigger pad. The EE-3 was overkill at this range, but Boba felt like being a little dramatic. He stood over the client’s body, watching the wispy smoke rising from the still smoldering blaster hole in the middle of the bastard’s smug face. “And now so are you.”

Fek. He’d kriffed up the timing. The client was supposed to be alive long enough to hear that last bit. Tippi would have loved the fact he’d literally jumped the gun. He prayed to gods he didn’t believe in that she’d get the chance to make fun of him for it.

When he returned to the medical center, he didn’t even have to ask for directions. The shaking receptionist at the welcome booth needed no prompting to point him to the waiting room where Lind sat slumped in a chair. He had his pick of the seats beside them. The room was crowded but many beings had chosen to stand rather than sit beside a Mandalorian with at least two visible blasters holstered on their belt. They didn’t know the charges were drained. Just as well. Probably wouldn’t have made them feel much better anyway.

The occupants of the room seemed uncertain where to direct their attention to avoid looking directly at Lind and Boba. The most popular choice was the holoprojector that was displaying a breaking news report about the smoldering destruction of the former Imperial base at the center of the city. The anchors were gravely discussing unsubstantiated rumors that the infamous Boba Fett had been spotted in town prior to the incident. They warned residents not to approach him for their own safety. 

They’d also save themselves some laundry by steering clear. He was covered in soot and grime, which was at least less morbid than Lind who had made no attempt to clean off Tippi’s blood. Some of it was dripping onto the chair and carpet beneath them. 

Boba really appreciated that everyone was minding their own business. Maybe the locals were just a polite bunch. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had saved them the trouble of deposing their most reviled public figure. Revolution was a messy business. They should really give him a medal, but he preferred their silence.

He was sure Lind was still furious with him, but they didn’t resist when Boba reached over and took their hand. He was relieved. He needed it as much as they probably did.

***

Tippi survived, but the doctor informed them that the damage had been too extensive. They’d had no choice. 

Tippi had trained herself to be nearly ambidextrous, but she had still favored her right paw. There was no paw anymore, just a naked patch at her shoulder where they’d shaved her fur for the amputation of her arm.

Tippi was nearly catatonic as the doctor explained how many times per cycle she would need to apply the prescription salve to encourage proper healing and prevent infection. If she chose to acquire a mechanical prosthetic, he recommended they do so as soon as possible while the nerve endings were still sensitive. Otherwise, it could impede the connection and she would lose a good deal of dexterity.

Tippi handled their books, but Lind knew just as well as she did that they didn’t have enough money to cover the medical bill, much less a prosthetic. By the time they could afford it, Tippi’s nerves would likely have deteriorated enough that it wouldn’t even be worth having.

“What are your options?” Boba asked. The doctor was quick to pull up the specs of each model they had on site. He handed Boba the datapad. Lind watched as he flicked through before settling on what looked like the most basic prosthetic in the repertoire. “This’ll do. Bring me the bill. For all of it.”

Lind stared at him. Lind’s whole body was shaking and they couldn’t stop.

“Thank you, Boba.” Lind stared at Tippi in shock. She was  _ smiling _ at Boba, eyes clear and alert. Didn’t she realize he was just trying to bribe his way to forgiveness?

Boba handed Tippi the datapad so she could take a closer look at the specs for her new arm. Tippi snorted as she swiped through the pages.

“What moron did they get to design this? I’ve seen better work from actual children.”

Tippi wasn’t really addressing either of them. She liked to make snarky comments about other people’s competence when she was looking over blueprints. She always had a better way to get something done, and she needed whoever was within earshot to know.

Seeing Tippi snap back to herself should have been a relief but Lind just couldn’t handle any of it. Why hadn’t Tippi told Boba to get lost like she should have? It was his fault she’d been hurt. He hadn’t even consulted her on what she wanted for her own damn arm!

They stormed out of the room. They made it halfway down the hall before Boba caught them by the arm. He didn’t hold them very tightly, and it was easy to break his grip as they spun around.

“Lind, I-”

“Did you think you could just swoop in and play hero and I’d just forget you almost got her killed?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to-”

“And what about her  _ arm _ ? You can afford a better prosthetic than that piece of junk! You really expect me to believe you feel a single hint of remorse when you just-”

“Tippi doesn’t need some overpriced piece of-”

“Of course she does!” Lind yelled. An approaching orderly spun on his heel and walked quickly back the way he came. He could perform his duties later. “Tippi deserves the best!”

“This backwater mudball doesn’t have the best!” Boba yelled right back, finally losing his temper. “It’s not about the damn arm, Lind!”

“You’re right! It’s about you being a cheap son of a-”

“Would you shut up!” Boba cut them off. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “I’ve dealt with chadra-fan before. If they can’t see the replacement as their own limb their bodies reject it. It’s a mental thing. They just relive the initial trauma until the shock kills them. I just…” he took another deep breath. “I thought maybe… if she just had a decent base to work with she’d get so involved altering it that she wouldn’t have time to… you know. She’d make it hers. She’d heal.” The proud set of his shoulders collapsed in on themselves. “She’s no good to us dead.”

_ Oh _ . Lind had misjudged him badly. He wasn’t denying responsibility or being flippant. Boba had identified and taken care of Tippi’s needs before Lind had even fully processed the situation. No wonder Tippi hadn’t been mad. 

“Hey, Boba?” He looked back up at them. “No more Imperial jobs.” Boba nodded.

“They don’t pay like they used to anyway.”

***

For many bounty hunters, even those that considered him an enemy, Boba Fett provided the same sort of comfort as an established diner. No matter what else was going on, you could count on Boba Fett to be out there hunting down some luckless schmuck. It was as certain as the direction of a planet’s rotation. Considering the times, the illusion of stability was needed more than ever. The trouble was, Fett had been slacking off. 

For a solid year and a half his pattern had veered into absolute chaos. He’d vanish for weeks on end or take odd jobs he’d never have bothered with before. Once he popped up again and proved he hadn’t finally eaten a blaster bolt, the theories abounded. 

Some thought maybe he was preparing to retire with his mountains of bloodsoaked credits. Others surmised his run in with the sarlacc had cowed him, made him overly cautious. Or perhaps the sarlacc had just left him with such grievous physical injuries that he couldn’t handle strenuous work. Maybe he was playing the long game on a big job.

Personally, Dengar sort of hoped Fett had gone back to that bar on Dantooine and taken up with the blue haired dame. Maybe there were some little bucket heads waiting for him to come home, now. Fett had never seemed like a family man, but Dengar had never thought he’d be the type to settle down either. 

Dengar didn’t particularly care about Fett’s happiness if he was being totally honest. People always said men like him and Fett would never really know peace. Simply put, if a heartless bastard like Fett could manage to make a life for himself outside of violence and greed, that meant what Dengar and Manaroo could be a long haul thing. Maybe he’d even become the sort of man who deserved to be with her someday.

Dengar was technically retired from the bounty hunting business, and he’d have never returned if it hadn’t been something truly important. Manaroo was redoing their kitchen. She was real hung up on a particular stove. It even came in her color. When she’d failed to fit it into their budget for the third time he’d taken one look at those big sad eyes, kissed her on the forehead, and promised to be back in a couple weeks.

Dengar had just wrapped up a handful of bit jobs for the Guild, and the oven was sitting nice and pretty in the Punishing One’s cargo hold. He wanted to get home with his anniversary gift as soon as he could, but Manaroo had made him swear in their wedding vows that he wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks. So he found himself delayed in a small but busy outer rim spaceport while his ship was refueled and double checked to ensure the safest journey home possible. 

Why not make the best of it? He decided to see what this little moon’s outpost had to offer. The cantina was a bit seedy, but by his standards it was nearly swanky. He was pleasantly surprised when they had all the liquors and fruit juices necessary for his favorite cocktail, but what had really taken him off guard was the fact that Boba Fett was seated in a well hidden little booth tucked away in the back of the cantina. He’d almost missed him. Maybe he could find out what Fett had really been up to from the man himself. 

“Long time no see, Fett,” he greeted. Fett gave his usual nod. Nice to see he hadn’t changed where it counted. Dengar didn’t wait to be invited and slid into the booth across from Fett. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“Waiting on someone.”

“A mark?” Fett shook his helmet. “You’re not working with partners again, are you, Fett?”

“Not exactly.“ Well, that was awful cryptic.

“Hey,” a new voice interrupted them. “I got your drink, Boba.” 

It was a chadra-fan. She was on the short side even for her species. She had a nice little chadra-fan sized drink in one paw and the other held an enormous multicolored confection Dengar wished he’d known was on the menu. It was so bright it burned the eyes and he bet it had truly magnificent alcohol content. 

The arm that held it was just as remarkable as the drink. It was cybernetic and sleek. Dengar assumed it must be custom. He’d never seen anything like it. The intricate inner workings were covered by intertwined plates of transparisteel and a gleaming metal Dengar thought might be genuine beskar. It was difficult to tell past the darkening patina that had been applied to enhance the carefully engraved grooves that mimicked stylized fur.

The thing displayed extraordinary dexterity and finesse as she placed Fett’s top heavy drink in front of him. Even some of the higher end models had trouble with fine motor skills and would have crushed the delicate stem. This one was so fluid and gentle it nearly moved like the real thing.

Fett stared down at the monstrosity in front of him. The rim was crowded with fruit slices and novelty decorations.

“That’s not what I asked for, Tip.” She shrugged at him.

“I figured you’d had enough sarlacc kicking.” Dengar snorted. He was a little surprised Fett was still ordering Sarlacc Kickers. That was just asking to be picked on. Whoever this chadra-fan was, Dengar liked her.

“You’re Dengar right?”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“I hear you’re married. Is she blind or something?” Dengar laughed out loud that time.

“You’d think! I keep taking her to get checked but the med droid says there’s nothing wrong with her. Guess there’s really someone for everyone, even an ugly barve like me!”

Tippi’s ears wiggled with amusement. 

“Thought you were retired, Dengar.” Fett said.

“Yeah, I am. Mostly. Just needed a little pocket change for my lady, you know? She’s gotta have the best of everything else considering she’s stuck with me. You’re one to talk about being retired, Fett. I hear you’ve been a rare sight out there these days.”

“Got some new priorities,” Fett said simply before turning to lightly smack Tippi’s hand which was fiddling with the join between her flesh and prosthetic. “Tip, stop messing with it. I didn’t fork over all those credits for it to get infected.” 

Dengar’s eyebrows rose. Fett paid for _ that _ ?

“It itches, what am I supposed to do?”

“Use your salve.”

“I left it on the ship.” Fett made an agitated noise as he fished a small tube from one of his ammo pouches.

“I brought the spare. Give me your arm.” He started to take his glove off, presumably to squeeze some onto his hand to apply it himself. Tippi must have been one of Fett’s so-called ‘new priorities’.

“I can do it myself!” She snatched the tube from him.

Dengar had never seen Fett like this. He’d had plenty of injured teammates over the years. He had never fussed over them much less paid for major medical treatment out of his own pocket. He was starting to think this relationship might be a lot less professional than he had assumed. 

Sure, he’d been hinting that Fett should find a nice someone and settle down but he’d been expecting… not this. A blushing sarlacc might have been less of a surprise. A while back, Fett had been asking about getting a gift for someone. Dengar wondered what kind of flowers chadra-fan liked. Did they eat them, maybe?

He wasn’t sure he had the capacity to handle this revelation so he turned his attention to something else.  _ Anything else _ . 

He was rewarded in the form of a shapely woman entering the cantina. Manaroo said he was still allowed to appreciate the aesthetics of the female form even if it wasn’t specifically  _ her _ female form. However, the wolf whistle died on his lips as her companion followed her inside. 

It was a tall, fully kitted Mandalorian in crisp blue and goldenrod yellow. That armor was the real deal. Dengar was pretty sure he’d even seen this particular one out on a few hunts. Vicious bastard, if it was. 

Fett had been known to run afoul of Mandos in the past, and it never ended cleanly. He’d helped patch Fett up a few times. Saved him from getting his drunken neck broken once. He really didn’t need this today.

“Fett, head’s up. We got one of your unfriendly cousins on our six.”

Fett glanced over and gave an appraising up and down of the Mando who had approached the bar to make their order. Dengar was grateful he hadn’t taken a sip of his drink just then because _ Fett _ wolf whistled.

“I like the cut of their armor,” Dengar stared at him in horrified disbelief. He hadn’t heard that tone from Fett in well over a decade. And it was directed at a Mando of all things. And with Fett’s fuzzy little girlfriend standing right there rubbing salve into her shoulder. “Didn’t you once tell me blue is a lucky color? I think I’ll go say hello.”

“Been nice knowing you, mate.” Fett ignored him and got up. Dengar watched him go on his way with a distinct swagger. “That barve has finally gone off the deep end,” he muttered.

“Oh, you have no idea,” the chadra-fan said. 

***

Boba had never been the kind for pranks, but Dengar’s horrified face had been too good to pass up. Besides, he kind of liked the thought of meeting Lind for the first time all over again. Hopefully with less violence and embarrassment this time around. He decided that if he was committing to this charade, he might as well go all in and dust off one of his old pickup lines.

“Hey baby, you believe in love at first sight or do I need to stroll by again?”

“Excuse me?” He hadn’t exactly been expecting them to swoon like the dancer he’d last used that on at Jabba’s palace, but he also hadn’t expected this level of hostility. “What did you just call me?” 

“Baby. It’s a pet name.”

“Am I a pet to you?”

“I can call you something else.” 

“Di’kut has been working just fine.”

“Little disrespectful though isn’t it?”

“Call me baby again and I’ll show you disrespectful.” Their hand strayed to their sidearm.

“Fine, di’kut it is.” He leaned in. “You could still call  _ me  _ baby, though. I wouldn’t mind. Not one bit.”

“Fitting. You’re a whiny little brat.”

“Now  _ that _ was disrespectful. So am I coming home with you tonight or what?” He better be. They’d come here together and his ship wasn’t even in the system.

“Di’kut.” 

“Hey babe, who’ve you got there?” A beautiful woman with flaming hair grasped Lind about the waist. This must be Kalypso.

“Why does  _ she _ get to call you that and I don’t?” Lind shrugged.

“Awww, Boba Baby, don’t be mad!” Kalypso giggled. She released Lind, grabbed Boba’s arm instead, and pressed herself against him. 

“My good mood is credit operated,” he deadpanned. He tried to brush her off but she was attached like a mynock.

“Such a stick in the mud. How _ do _ you put up with him, Lind?” He glanced at Lind. They were leaning back against the counter, completely unfazed. Another shrug.

“Must be my charming personality,” he grumbled.

“How many credits to get that charming personality into my bunk?”  _ Wow.  _ Tippi had said Kalypso was an incorrigible flirt, but she had not prepared him for this level of shamelessness. “Heard some rumors about what’s under that armor of yours.” She walked two fingers up his breastplate. “Makes a girl...  _ curious _ .” She chucked him under the chin. So that’s what it felt like on the receiving end. He didn’t like it much. Bit condescending.

“I’m a clone. Standard issue, no special features. I’m out of your price range.” He wanted to flirt with Lind, not Kalypso. 

“But do you have the skills to warrant that exclusive price tag?” Kalypso prodded. He couldn’t believe Lind was just standing there. Would a possessive arm around his shoulders be so much to ask of them? That’s what he would have done.

“Ask Lind,” he ground out. Let them deal with Kalypso.

“Really? Lind, is that true? With  _ him _ ??” Insulting. “What happened to your pathological fear of physical intimacy?”

“Clang clang!” Tippi called from across the cantina. Dengar’s hearing wasn’t as sharp based on the desperately confused look he threw her way

Lind shrugged once more. The bartender reappeared and handed them their drink. Lind pushed up off the counter like they hadn’t a care in the world and headed over to the booth. Boba followed them and Kalypso followed him. Dengar’s eyes were wide as he slid onto the bench next to Lind. His eyes kept darting between them as he took a nervous sip of his cocktail. Lind nodded at him in greeting.

“Dengar. Nice to officially meet you.”

“So what’s the hardware on this guy?” Kalypso interrupted, pointing to Boba’s codpiece. She waggled her eyebrows, as if anyone there would ever accuse her of an innocent question.

“EE-3 carbine rifle. Wristmounted Czerka Z-X flame-projector, whipcord, jetpack with integrated MM-9 concussion-rocket launcher, dart launchers on the kneepads, DUR-24 sidearm.” Lind was being obtuse and literal on purpose. Kalypso just laughed as if to say,  _ Why did I expect any other answer _ ? Apparently, Lind hadn’t quite finished their list of his arsenal. “And a nice ass.” 

Dengar spewed his drink across the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack  
> 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton  
> Something’s Always Wrong by Toad the Wet Sprocket  
> Radio Nowhere by Bruce Springsteen  
> No Easy Way (Out) by Digital Daggers  
> Cry Little Sister by Gerard McMann  
> Indestructible by Robyn


	12. Potluck

Mos Eisley, Docking Bay 94. Lind wasn’t sure why but that was where Leia Organa had told them to meet her. 

One in person talk wasn’t going to drastically alter the course of Mandalorian history, but they still felt they were standing on the edge of a significant moment. Opening that door meant taking another step towards an uncertain future; a step towards a life without Boba and Tippi.

This may have been the first step, but they hadn’t been left behind just yet. Boba and Tippi were Lind’s officially sanctioned back-up. Sasch had finally conceded that Tir lacked finesse for finer negotiations and ordered her to remain with the covert. Lind successfully argued that Organa might be more willing to trust the Mandalorians if she could see their whole Sabacc hand, which unfortunately now included the wild card that was Boba. Tippi had insisted that if Boba got to come to the party, she did, too. Bboa was relieved when Sasch ultimately agreed. He didn’t want to be left alone at the mercy of C-3PO again.

Lind’s relief at having their friends’ steady presence at their back was short lived. Sasch’s condition for Boba and Tippi’s involvement was they must not be present for the actual discussion. She didn’t trust either of them, especially Boba, to not capitalize on the confidential information that may be disclosed by either side. Organa had agreed to the terms and was bringing people of her own to keep an eye on Boba. It was like visiting a fancy Core world bar where you had to check your blaster at the door. Lind hated having an empty holster.

  
  


“This feels like a social call,” Tippi said. She rubbed her paws together, a common nervous habit among chadra-fan. “Does anyone else feel like we should have brought something? A casserole maybe. I don’t know.” 

“I should have asked Sasch to make some uj cake,” Lind said. They didn’t feel any calmer than Tippi.

“I brought some.” Boba handed Tippi a carefully wrapped loaf of uj’alayi. It was nestled in a little disposable tin decorated with a delicate floral pattern. Such tins were available in corner stores the galaxy over. It was a sign that whatever it held was almost certainly homemade. “Thought we might need a bribe,” Boba mumbled.

“Where the hell did this come from? We finished off the last one Sasch gave us weeks ago. Did you burgle some unsuspecting Mando homemaker?” Tippi had often joked that Boba overprepared, but this was a whole new level.

“ I made it.” He sounded nearly bashful.

“ _ You? _ ” Lind asked incredulously.

“It’s not hard!” he defended himself, as if his ability was what was being questioned.

“Making a good uj cake is  _ very _ hard, actually.” Tippi said. “I’ve been trying to crack that old Balazs recipe for years. I can build a top of the line starship from spare vaporator parts and Jawa spit but that baked good eludes me.” Boba didn’t respond, but the defensive hunch of his shoulders straightened back up. 

Lind hadn’t expected the two of them to make peace, much less genuinely like each other. It was a relief. Lind had had enough of being pulled in different directions like they were a rope toy between two anoobas.

“Well, the sooner we go in the sooner this is over,” Lind said as they keyed in the access code Organa had provided. 52577.

Lind and Boba were both intimately familiar with the Falcon, though from very different perspectives. Tippi had only seen the flying scrap heap from a distance but she’d been fascinated from the first glance.

“This has got to be one of the sexiest ships I’ve ever seen,” she breathed. “I wanna get inside it.”

“Tip, I know it’s a lot to ask, but please try to act respectable,” Boba said.

“That’s rich coming from you, buckethead.” Han Solo stood at the top of the loading ramp, his face set in a deep scowl and a hand on his holster. “I heard you’re killing former moffs now. That supposed to make me believe you’ve grown a set of morals?”

“Special dispensation. The guy had it coming.” Han continued to glower and refused to break eye contact with Boba as he addressed Lind. 

“Balazs, you actually trust this joker?”

“Yes. I still have that leverage I told you about.”

“And that ‘leverage’ worked out great the last time we three got together.”

“Trust me, Solo,” Lind said.

“I’d really like to, but if I had my way-“

“Well you don’t have your way.” A tiny woman with a head of intricate brown braids appeared at his side. Lind recognized her from the Imperial wanted holos. Leia Organa. “Luke said we can trust them. And I trust Luke. Let them onboard, nerfherder.” Solo opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off. “Even our least favorite buckethead.” She turned to Lind. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lind. I’ve heard a lot of... interesting stories about you.” 

_ What stories? _ The panic fully set in and they blurted, “I’m really interesting.” That sure wasn’t the dignified introduction they’d hoped to make. Why had Sasch put them in charge of this, again? Pretty girls always seemed to make Lind come over a bit braindead. 

Tippi snickered and Organa laughed. She had a very warm smile. Maybe there was still hope. Lind could feel Boba’s glare burning the back of their helmet as they followed Leia inside. As he crossed the threshold, Leia turned and spoke to Boba.

“I see you came dressed as yourself this time.”

“You really want to come at me about a cruddy disguise, your highness?” She smirked at him like he’d made the most droll little joke.

“Admit it, I had you fooled. You had no idea it was me at Jabba’s Palace.”

“No, but I knew it wasn’t Boushh under that helmet either. He never had the stones to pull a stunt like that with a live thermal detonator.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“Do as you please.” Boba shrugged at her to convey how much he didn’t care how she chose to take it, but Lind knew Organa had impressed him. He’d stopped making fun of them for hanging onto that old bounty puck for her after the Tatooine business. 

Solar and Organa turned and began to venture deeper into the ship. Lind was about to follow them when they saw Tippi tug on Boba’s pant leg, point to a vent near the ceiling, and then make the grabby hands gesture a youngling makes when it wants up. 

Boba complied without question or argument. Lind was happy to see them cooperate but speechless that this was when and how they’d chosen to do so. Boba lifted Tippi up and she had begun working on the first screw before their hosts realized something untoward was going on. 

“What the hell are you trying to do to my ship?” Solo yelled. Organa, flabbergasted, turned to Lind for an explanation, but Boba was both quicker and more succinct.

“Putting Tippi in the vent.” He made it sound as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the galaxy. Lind crossed their arms over their breastplates like they were on foundling duty back at the covert when shenanigans got out of hand.

“Don’t put Tippi in the vent, Boba,” Lind said.

“I want to be in the vent,” Tippi whined.

“This isn’t our ship. It’s rude.”

“Right, fine.” Tippi grumbled. Then she stage whispered to Boba, “We’ll try again when they’re not paying attention.”

”Sure,” he said, completely unruffled.

“Is there a problem here?”

Lind turned to find someone unexpected. It was another Mandalorian, but she must not have been a member of Grandmother’s sect. She had her helmet tucked casually beneath her arm. And what a helmet!

“Now  _ that _ is a real paint job!” Lind gushed. Vibrant, stylized. It was truly breathtaking and exactly the aesthetic Lind loved, though was never bold enough to pursue for themselves.

“Thank you!” the other Mandalorian smiled warmly. “I did it myself!” 

“Oh, how exquisite!” Lind swooped in to get a closer look at her pauldrons. The other Mando turned her body to better accommodate the inspection. 

“Really?” Boba said. His feathers had finally been ruffled. “ _ That  _ impresses you? You can see the brush strokes.” Lind had yet to convince him a seamless application wasn’t the end all be all of paint jobs.

“Don’t mind him. He has no taste. Boba, come look at the sweet little convor on her pauldron!”

“Hmph.” He did not come look at the sweet little convor. Fine. Let him sulk.

Leia took the opportunity to formally introduce the colorful Mando. 

“Lind Balazs, this is Sabine Wren.”

“Oh,” Lind said, sobering up. Clan Wren had led the insurrection on Mandalore against the Empire. They’d been decimated. “I honor your family’s bravery and sacrifice, Wren. Your clan is a noble one.” Sabine smiled sadly.

“I appreciate that,” she brightened up again, clearly not the type to publically dwell on past tragedy. “I never thought I’d get to meet a Balazs! Are you one of the record keepers?” Lind nodded.

“What are you keeping record of?” Solo asked. “How many blasters stuck up your-“ Sabine turned on him, her eyes alight.

“Clan Balazs developed remarkable memorization techniques meant to preserve our people’s oral histories and traditions. Lind is one of our most valuable cultural resources. They’ve probably forgotten more about Mandalore than the rest of us ever knew.”

“Oh please!” Tippi was beaming with pride. “Our Lind has never forgotten anything in their life.” Lind heard Boba shift uncomfortably behind them. They should share Tippi’s pride, or at least appreciate her support, but Lind was with Boba on this. They just felt smothered by consequence bearing down on them.

“That sounds like a very important position,” Organa said, looking at Lind more closely like she could physically spot what Wren was so impressed by.

“It’s… a big responsibility,” Lind replied. They really didn’t want to talk about this. Organa seemed to sense that. Her expression turned sympathetic and she changed the topic.

“I thought I should bring on my own consultant since you brought yours again,” She nodded at Boba. “I apologize for delaying this for so long, but I wanted Sabine to be here. I believe she has a unique perspective on the situation we would all benefit from.”

“Not many rebel Mandos,” Solo said.

“Not many Mandos period,” Boba shot back. Always had to have the last word.

“Let’s get this underway,” Sabine said, beckoning Organa and Lind. “The rest of you go hang out in the hold. No more troublemaking. Especially you.” She directed it at Solo in particular, who pointed at his unconvincingly innocent face and mouthed  _ Me? _ “I mean it,” she called as he turned and walked toward the opposite end of the corridor. 

***

Tippi followed Solo, but Boba hesitated, watching Lind vanish around a bend in the circular hall. 

A blue and white astromech appeared from a service corridor and noticed him standing there. It made an angry chirping exclamation and rammed his leg as it herded him toward the end of the ship where Solo and Tippi had gone. It was much bigger MS-E… and more painful. The droid whistled something incredibly rude at him. 

“Watch it, stubby. I understand binary.”

The astromech simply responded with an even longer train of insults, letting him know exactly where it wanted Boba to go that definitely wasn’t the main hold, before spinning neatly around and trundling off in the direction Organa and Wren had taken Lind.

The main hold was crowded. It almost looked like a party, though one that was very grudgingly attended. This was a lot of people just to keep an eye on little old him.

Boba noted the fussy golden protocol droid was absent. He almost missed it. Solo, his wookiee, and Calrissian sat at the Dejarik table. To Boba’s dismay, a decommissioned clone trooper stood at attention against the far wall. He’d heard a few had joined the Rebellion. Kind of seemed like an awful retirement package.

Boba could see a small scar on the side of the clone’s bald head where his behavior modification chip should be located. When Boba found out about the chips he had visited countless medical facilities to make sure he was truly unaltered. As if the clones hadn’t been off putting enough already. 

Boba wondered if the chip had somehow been removed before it had time to decompose and affect his mental faculties, because the clone’s eyes were clear and focused. The look he gave Boba was calm and contemplative, but everyone else was glaring murder at him. 

Tippi broke the tense silence.

“Hey, big guy,” she addressed Chewbacca. “Mind if I take a peep under this lady’s skirts?” She patted one of the mismatched wall panels. What a class act.

Chewbacca howled a positive response before explaining an issue he was having with some wiring that was in a difficult spot for him to reach. He removed a small panel in the wall near the floor.

Tippi set the tin of uj cake on the Dejarik table and wasted no time crawling through the opening he had so kindly made for her. Boba knew the smell of fresh uj’alayi was nigh irresistible, yet no one was reaching for it. Boba had been both abandoned and insulted in rapid succession. This was exactly the reason he hated socializing.

“So… Boba…” Lando tried to break the awkward silence again. “Haven’t seen you since… uh… what’s new with you?” Boba remained silent. He didn’t do small talk. Especially with people directly responsible for the greatest humiliation of his career. 

He was including his brief engagement to Otua Blank on Quarzite in that estimation. If Boba was being honest, Blank deeming him ugly had stung his pride nearly as much as Ventress getting one over on him. He probably shouldn’t have taken it too personally. Apparently, Blank found all humans and near humans difficult to differentiate. He had left Boba as Ventress had delivered him; bound, gagged, and stuffed in the trunk where Blank’s intended had been kept. Blank hadn’t realized there’d been a switch and incorrectly assumed his new “bride” was blushing from anticipation and not frothing rage. 

Dengar showed up at the last possible moment before the union was legally binding and very much did not hold his peace about it. It took him longer than necessary to explain the situation between fits of uncontrollable giggling, which Boba found to be unfit behavior for a professional. He’d made it up to Boba later when he swore he would tell no one. Boba couldn’t help feeling the oath lost a little sincerity considering it was made with a blaster muzzle shoved up Dengar’s left nostril.

“Answer the man,” Tippi called from the vent. “Lind told you not to be rude.” Boba huffed.

“Sorry about the carbonite,” he said to Solo. Boba tried to identify the face he was making, but it was a hard call. Dumb surprise was just the way Solo’s face was naturally structured.

“Are you serious?” Han asked.

“Not a bit.” Lind had insisted he apologize, which he found unreasonable. It wasn’t like Solo had done nothing to deserve his fate. Lind had physically shoved Boba out of his own bunk and refused to let him back in until he promised to go through with the apology. He was a man of honor if not morals, and it was worth it for Lind to allow him back in. “I admit I wasn’t totally on board when Vader brought in the ugnaughts, but it turned out damn convenient for me. I should do that with all my live merchandise.”

“Well in that case, I’m sorry about the sarlacc.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not.” Lando decided to try to steer them towards a safer topic

“How  _ do  _ you and Lind know each other?” he asked.

“It’s personal.”

Solo was clearly irritated by Boba’s reticence, but Calrissian was quicker on the uptake.

“Wait… you don’t mean the two of you…?” For someone so entrenched in hedonistic philosophy, he made the most tentative pursed lip kissing pantomime imaginable. Tippi’s head suddenly popped out of the wall she was working in.

“They go clang clang!” Her gleeful laughter was muffled behind the wall panels as she withdrew again. Boba got the gist of that joke, but he assumed it must have been funnier in its original context. When asked what that context might be, she refused to explain herself. 

“ _ Clang clang _ ?” Han repeated stupidly.

“Yeah, that’s right, Solo. Clang clang.”

“Lind? With _ you _ ??” Calrissian gaped. Boba wondered if he should be concerned about how many unrelated people had expressed that sentiment. 

Solo turned to Chewbacca. “Did you know about this?” Chewbacca shook his furry head. Solo leaned back in his seat, processing this revelation. “They’ve been working with me and…  _ clanging _ you this whole time?” 

“Jealous?” Boba’s ego always got a little jolt thinking about how Lind had chosen him over anyone else, including Solo.

“Are you kidding? I don’t even know what they look like.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to,” Boba sniped. He didn’t appreciate being reminded that he didn’t know either. Solo must have sensed his weakness as his lopsided grin turned predatory.

“Now that you mention it… bet they’re cute under the bucket.”

“Stick to your princess.”

“Who’s jealous now?” Solo smirked but Boba didn’t rise to the bait this time. Hadn’t Lind said Solo wasn't their type? That little princess on the other hand was a concern...

“How did someone like Lind end up with someone like you?” Calrissian asked. Boba tried very hard not to take it personally. Aside from the style of helmet they both wore, he knew he and Lind were otherwise mismatched. 

“They dislocated my arm.”

“That’s real romantic,” Solo sneered.

“I’m sure you and your princess met in a nice picturesque field of wildflowers.” Boba missed the days when Solo was a frozen slab strapped to the wall in his cargo hold. 

Chewbacca gave a rumbling growl ending in an ululating keen.

_ Garbage compactor, actually. _ How fitting.

“Chewie’s got a point, Han,” Calrissian said. “You don’t have a lot of room to throw stones.”

“I’m surprised an idealist like the princess went for a crook like you,” Boba said.

“It was an uphill battle but I wore her down. I figured it was easier to get her attention if I got respectable with her Rebellion. What did you have to do?”

“The sarlacc,” Tippi yelled from somewhere above their heads. “He should actually thank you for that one.”

“Your pick up strategy was having a near death experience?” Solo snickered.

“The noble cause angle has never worked out for me.”

“I know a thing or two about noble causes,” the clone spoke up at last. Boba resisted the urge to shudder. It was as close to hearing a corpse speak as you could get. “Maybe I can give you some advice, brother.”

“Brother?” Solo squinted between Rex and Boba. 

“Wait, wait, hold on again,” As before, Calrissian was a step ahead of Solo. He addressed the clone but pointed to Boba. “You saying this guy is one of yours? I thought you two sounded similar...”

Boba hardly considered his status as a clone a well guarded secret. It had just come up less and less as their numbers dwindled, and he stopped taking his helmet off in public. People had short memories.

“Same genetic source. That’s all. I’m not one of his  _ brothers _ ,” said Boba. Solo rolled his eyes.

“I’m getting real sick of these surprise family reunions. Since we’re doing this again, anyone else have any secret relations they’d like to announce? Chewie, you and shorty over there aren’t cousins, right?” 

Boba wondered what he meant by that. Then he remembered finding the identity of the pilot who destroyed the first Death Star for Vader. The only thing Boba had been able to recover was a name: Skywalker. Vader’s reaction had been interesting. He hadn’t lashed out at Boba or any of his men, but the transparisteel of the viewport had nearly shattered from the pressure of his poorly contained… something. It hadn’t been rage. Not entirely. It was a loss of control very unlike the dark lord. Boba had known then this was a personal matter and also time to leave before that viewport collapsed and sucked them both out into the vacuum of space.

Of all the Imperial bounties for rebels listed after that, Skywalker’s had held the distinction of being both highest and exclusively in living condition. If you brought him in dead, you might as well do yourself in, too. Vader had gone to great lengths to capture Skywalker alive on Bespin. 

One of the Jedi prisoners on Geonosis all those years ago had been named Skywalker. He’d become a bit of a celebrity figure in the Core during the Clone Wars. From all accounts, he had been popular with the then Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Boba had speculated about the nature of the connection between Vader, the Jedi Skywalker, and the rebel pilot turned Jedi. Solo’s comment essentially confirmed it as a family tie. An uncle? Maybe even a father. 

Boba wondered how many other people knew the galaxy’s golden hero had a dark side. Then he wondered how much people might pay to find out. Then he remembered that Lind would do worse than kick him out of the bunk again if he brought it to market. Hondo had only been half right. Business with Lind was pleasurable but not profitable. Boba could accept the tradeoff. 

“I had an uncle that cheated at Sabacc,” Lando offered. “My mother liked to pretend we weren’t related.”

“ _ You  _ cheat at Sabacc,” Solo accused.

“Yeah, but I do it with class.” Solo gave a bark of sarcastic laughter. 

“You mean you don’t get caught!” He launched into some old story that wasn’t nearly as entertaining as those two seemed to find it. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Boba saw the clone beckon him towards the cockpit. He briefly debated his options. It was a close call. Listen to some wildly exaggerated story about two of the most annoying men to ever live or engage in what was sure to be a fraught personal discussion. He followed after the clone toward the relative peace of the cockpit.

***

The captain’s quarters of the Millennium Falcon were a step up from the back alleys, cantinas, and sewers where Lind usually conducted their business. Despite her lofty position and royal background, Organa seemed perfectly at home in the mess. Judging by the nature of some of the personal items strewn about, she spent a fair amount of time here. Two people had made a home in this cabin.

Organa must be busy with her political career. Lind wondered if her arrangement with Solo was like theirs with Boba, stretching every moment out as long as they could. Lind didn’t have a particular investment in the other couple’s relationship, but the idea that it may be doomed struck them with a melancholic sympathy. 

Boba had been taking fewer and fewer jobs, and the Slave I spent most of its time docked these days. When questioned, he’d just shrugged and said he could get back to it…  _ after. _ He didn’t say after what. He didn’t have to. 

Lind had always hoped the Mandalorians would finally return to their own system for good, and now they were an integral part in making that happen. For the longest time, Lind had believed that would mean they, too, would finally have a place to belong. Now they understood it meant just the opposite. Their home was waiting for them out in the main hold of this freighter. And possibly in a wall. If all of this went well, Lind would be leaving them soon.

Dwelling on something they couldn’t change was pointless, but they didn’t know how to begin this meeting either. This wasn’t the usual Guild or runner job. This wasn’t a history lecture for the children. No one here had armor to be mended. Except…

Organa wore an intricate bracelet. It didn’t seem to fit her delicate wrist properly and when she shifted, Lind realized it wasn’t a bracelet at all, but a necklace. Organa had it wrapped around her wrist and fastened with a little leather band. The clasp looked as if it had been damaged. This was something Lind could handle.

“Senator Organa,” Lind began.

“Please,” she said. “Call me Leia.”

“Leia…” Sasch would have been scandalized. She’d made Lind sit down and memorize proper forms of address for major political figures as well as royalty. Lind had said it was a waste of time, and they had been right. “I noticed that piece of jewelry you’re wearing is broken. If you don’t mind me taking a look, I think I can fix it.” Leia smiled at them.

“I thought we came here to talk politics.”

“We did. I just like to keep my hands busy.” Leia carefully removed the necklace and handed it to Lind who produced a small tool kit from their belt. It was meant for repairing the delicate machinery housed in their gauntlets and helmet, but jewelry repair was another practical use. They inspected the necklace. It was a simple fix. Lind wondered why Leia hadn’t already taken it to be repaired if she still cared for it enough to wear.

“It was my mother’s,” Leia offered. It was almost like she had heard Lind’s unspoken question. “It was kept offworld in a bank vault, and was auctioned off after Alderaan’s destruction. I only just managed to get it back from the private collector who bought it. It was damaged when I… reacquired it.” Lind suddenly felt they should handle it even more carefully than they already were. Lind was surprised she’d handed the necklace over at all. Leia must have been left with little more than the clothes on her back when her planet was destroyed. Possessing something that belonged to her mother was a miracle. 

“It’s beautiful.” It seemed like the polite thing to say. Lind had very few opinions about jewelry. They carefully selected a tiny washer to replace a broken ring in the chain. They explained to Leia what they planned to do before each step of the process, just in case she had any objections. This necklace was priceless, and Leia deserved as much say in the restoration as possible. Leia’s R2 unit offered its assistance with a little spot welding arm. Lind didn’t really need it but they didn’t want to be rude and decline its generous offer. Finally, Lind gently hammered the main clasping mechanism back into shape where it had been bent before handing it back to Leia. 

“Thank you, Lind.” She carefully clasped the necklace around her throat and gently touched the blocky main pendant with two fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut, and inhaled deeply to regain her composure. Artoo made a sad boop and rolled closer to Leia, clearly trying to offer what comfort it could. Maybe this hadn’t been the right opening move after all. Lind hadn’t meant to upset her.

“I apologize. I didn’t realize when I offered it might bring up painful memories…” Leia looked at them in surprise and then laughed.

“You don’t need to apologize. This was…” she touched the pendant again, smiling sadly. “This was a better peace offering than the kyber shipment.” Her face became serious again. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I heard what happened to your friend.”

“She’s fine. I think she likes her new arm better than her old one, honestly. Sorry we lost the kyber.”

“We got it back in the end,” Sabine waved her hand dismissively. “That arm is a real work of art,” she praised. “Did you make it for her?”

“I really didn’t do much. Tippi designed the whole thing. I just fabricated the casing.” Sabine’s eyebrows rose.

“That detailwork on the beskar must have been tricky to pull off.” 

“Organic shapes are more forgiving. It wasn’t a big deal.” Sabine didn’t look convinced.

“I’m not classically trained, but I forged my own armor. Doing something like that with beskar that thin while maintaining its integrity _ is  _ a big deal.”

“My grandmother could have done it better.”

“That doesn’t make your work any less impressive.” They shrugged. It was nice of her to say those things, but as Sabine had said herself, she wasn’t classically trained. How could she judge the true quality of the work when she didn’t understand where the limit really lay?

“Who did you inherit your beskar from?” Lind asked, eager to change the subject.

“My grandmother. What about yours?”

“My buir.”

“And what about Fett?” Sabine asked. “I bet he had to kill someone for that armor.”

“Maybe for a couple pieces of his first set. He said he bought it, but I’m not sure  _ I _ buy that. I forged his current kit myself. His helmet was his father’s.”

“That’s fascinating. I had no idea your armor was inherited like that,” Leia said. 

“It’s not always between direct family members,” Lind explained. “Sometimes it’s from a mentor, or even someone totally unrelated who never named an heir. It goes where it’s needed. It’s about preserving history and making a new future, not maintaining a bloodline.”

“Preserving history and making a new future,” Leia repeated. “I like the sound of that. There’s so little of Alderaan left. I feel personally responsible to save what I can of my culture. Sometimes I worry that I’m clinging too hard to the past instead of moving forward. It’s hard to know when to hold on and when to let go.” She gave Lind a look laden with meaning. “It’s a difficult balance… and a big responsibility. ” 

They’d come right back around to things Lind really didn’t want to talk about. It seemed there was no escaping it.

“I don’t know if we can really compare our situations,” Lind said. “Mandalore is still there, but Alderaan…” Lind couldn’t find the words. What had happened to Leia was unspeakable. 

“You’re right,” Leia said evenly. “Alderaan is gone.” Lind flinched. They had dug up the most painful topic possible again. “Pain isn’t a competition. I may no longer have a home to go back to but I refuse to begrudge someone else recovering theirs. Alderaan was always welcoming refugees. I never thought Alderaan and Mandalore had much in common, but Luke told me you take in lost children.”

“We do. Ones who have nowhere else to go. The foundlings are our future,” Lind said.

“This is the way,” Sabine finished for them. They knew Sabine was supposed to be an impartial mediator between the two parties, but Lind couldn’t help feeling the relief that came with knowing they had a vod at their back. Going into this meeting without Boba and Tippi, or even Tir, had made Lind want to chew their nails off through their gloves.

“That was Alderaan’s way, too,” said Leia. “I think it would honor the memory of my people to help yours, Lind.”

“Thank you,” Lind said. Sasch had expected Leia to need more convincing than this. She had already begun discussing new topics and arguments for Lind to use in future meetings. It seemed she’d overplanned again. This was good. Wasn’t it? “My people will be pleased to hear of your support.”

“Lind,” Leia was studying them intensely. “Do you mind if I ask a personal question?” Lind nodded. “You said your people will be pleased. What about you? You seem…” Leia frowned, like she could actually see the conflict raging inside Lind at that moment.

“It’s not that I don’t want my people’s future to be secure,” Lind said. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” Sabine prodded.

“When my grandmother passes, I’ll be the only person left who knows everything in Clan Balazs’ record. If Mandalore is reestablished, I’ll have to go back. I have a duty to my clan, to my entire culture, to pass on what I know. To lead.”

“That’s an overwhelming task,” Leia frowned. “But that’s not what’s upsetting you, is it?”

“I’ll have to leave Tippi and Boba behind. I can't perform my duties if my loyalties are divided. My Grandmother sacrificed everything she loved for our people. How can I do anything less? But...”

“But what?” Leia prodded gently.

“I can’t fully give myself in service to my people because a part of me will always be with Boba and Tippi. They’ve understood me in a way no one else has. I don’t want to lose them.”

Wren touched one of her pauldrons. It had a purrgil painted on it. “When you find someone you would sacrifice for, who would do the same for you… that’s truly precious, Lind. If that’s who Fett and Tippi are to you, why would you leave them?”

“Because that’s just how it is. I need to do what’s right, like my grandmother before me.”

“It sounds like your friends are really important to you,” Wren said. “How could having them in your life be a bad thing? Isn’t it the way of the Mandalore to accept the worthy?” ”

“I don’t think Tippi or Boba are looking to formally take up the creed. Everything they do for the Mandalorians is only done for my benefit. Without me, they wouldn’t care.”

“So what? They’ve both still helped you protect and provide for your covert and for your. They at least deserve a little respect and gratitude for the result of their actions, if not their intent.”

“What about  _ my _ intent?” Lind pressed. “Isn’t it a betrayal to align myself with them over our people?”

“Your duty to our people isn’t mutually exclusive from your bond with your friends. I’ve lived that struggle, too. It’s not all black and white.”

“That’s not what my grandmother says.”

“Who cares what your grandmother says?” Wren threw her hands in the air in exasperation. “What’s her problem with you having a social life?” 

“If I may,” Leia interjected. “I might have some insight. Back when I first began serving in the Imperial Senate, I tried to get a bill passed. I was counting on a vote from another senator, but in the end he chose to vote against the bill and it didn’t get through. I was livid at first. Then my father pointed out that despite all my political maneuvering, I had failed to consider a key factor. I hadn’t accounted for how the bill would affect the supply routes of the system that senator represented. He simply had a responsibility to fulfill that I didn’t. I spoke to the senator later and he said I might have been able to win his vote if I had addressed the impact of the bill more carefully. Sometimes you have to make a distinction about what you want and what someone else needs. As a politician, split loyalty doesn’t make someone an enemy, but it does make them difficult to control and influence. It’s easier to do your own job when you don’t have to worry about how it affects others.”

“No offense, but what does that have to do with anything?” Sabine asked. Lind tilted their helmet at Leia trying to convey their own confusion. Leia rolled her eyes and sighed.

“All bucket and no brain. Full offense meant.” Artoo made a string of disapproving beeps at the two Mandalorians to help drive Leia’s point home. “Let me simplify. Lind’s grandmother is more concerned with her political agenda than what is best for Lind. It’s far more convenient to isolate Lind than to account for their personal needs.” 

Lind felt Leia had just jabbed her little hands inside their torso and scooped their guts out.

“That’s not… she wouldn’t do that.” Lind didn’t sound convincing even to themself. “She cares about me…” Artoo rolled over and extended his welding arm to them again. Lind wasn’t sure what sort of human gesture it was trying to emulate but they appreciated its effort.

“Lind, I’m not saying she doesn’t love you in her way,” Leia said gently. “But loving someone isn’t enough. You have to let them have what they need even when it’s inconvenient for you.”

Lind thought back on how Grandmother and Sasch were never the ones to offer Lind encouragement or hard candy when their spirits were low. That was Tippi. How they sought Lind out only when they needed something from them, and never simply for the pleasure of their company. That was Boba. The covert demanded Lind give everything up for them. Meanwhile, Tippi and Boba were getting ready to let them go no matter how badly they wanted Lind to stay.

Even if Sasch and Grandmother really were only using them, what about the rest of the Mandalorians in the covert? What about Tir and the foundlings? Lind couldn’t abandon them.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do...” 

“You need to stop letting your grandmother call all the shots,” said Leia. “Your two families are not incompatible. There’s a compromise.”

“Grandmother says no one ever gets what they want from a compromise.” Referencing their grandmother was automatic and Lind immediately regretted it. Grandmother wasn’t always right. Why did Lind keep deferring to her deeply fallible wisdom?

“It doesn’t sound like anyone has what they want as it is,” Sabine pointed out. “It sounds to me like you’re just following the way of Alor Balazs more than the way of the Mandalore. 

“Besides,” Leia grinned mischievously. “I thought you Mandos loved to fight? Especially each other!”

“You haven’t met my grandmother,” Lind said dejectedly. “When it comes to her, my holster is empty.”

“Oh, Lind. You really aren’t a politician. ” Leia laughed and grasped Lind’s gloved hand. “You already have exactly what you need.”

“And what’s that?” Leia’s grin turned from mischievous to downright devilish. Lind fell just a little bit in love with her. 

“ _ Leverage _ .”

***

The clone sat down heavily in the captain’s chair and stretched him left leg out, rubbing at the knee. Boba wondered if he’d have the same joint trouble when he was the age the clone looked. The clone smiled at him kindly and patted the arm of the copilot’s seat.

“C’mon, brother. Rest your legs”

“I meant what I said. I’m not your brother.”

“Sorry, sorry,” He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Bad habit. You know how it is, seeing a familiar face on a stranger. Messes with your head a bit, doesn’t it? I’m Rex. Was a captain in the 501st when that still meant something good.” It had never meant anything good to Boba. “Why don’t you remove your bucket?” He gestured to where his own battered clone trooper helmet sat on the cockpit’s dash. There was room for a twin beside it. “Get comfortable. Nothing I haven’t seen.”

Boba sat and removed his helmet, but he kept it firmly in his hands. He’d maintained his distance from the clones his whole life, and he had no reason to stop now. It had been painful watching them fight and die for the people responsible for Jango’s death. He refused to be lumped in with his feckless ‘brothers’. 

“You know,” Rex said. “I saw you a few times. Back on Kamino.”

“You sure it was me? I hear I have one of those faces,” Boba muttered. 

“True enough,” chuckled Rex. It looked as if Boba was about to be dragged along for this trip down memory lane whether he liked it or not. Wonderful. “I think you would have been too young to remember. We were maybe three. Sometimes Jango would bring you with him when he’d check on how our training was going. He was always distant with us. Treated us like soldiers, even then. But with you? He was like a different man.” 

He wondered how Rex could smile so fondly with no hint of resentment over such a memory. Boba had been chosen to be Jango’s true son, and Rex hadn’t. Ironically, Boba had been the one jealous of his father’s time and attention. Once he was old enough to comprehend his reality as one of a million identical boys, Boba had been terrified. What if one of them would make a better son? More obedient, more talented. 

“Now, I know I’m probably talking out my own ass here,” Rex continued. “But I don’t think a good father would force his son to-” Boba’s face twisted in preparation for a tirade of  _ How dare you question Jango’s parenting? He was the best there was!  _ but Rex raised his hands in a  _ simmer down _ gesture. Boba instinctively backed off, just as he used to when Jango put his foot down. Rex had been right about the effect of a familiar face on a stranger. “Don’t get your codpiece all ridden up. All I’m saying is, I’m sure Jango wanted better for you than what he had. Did he ever actually say that _ this _ ,” he waved his hand at Boba’s armor, “was what he had you made for?”

Boba started forward in his seat again, mouth opened to defend Jango… but then he froze. Again, Rex’s expression was so familiar. It was the same way Jango would look at him, patiently waiting for Boba to pick up the pieces and figure out the lesson he was being taught. 

_ C’mon, Boba. You’re such a smart boy. _

He remembered the first time he’d plunged into the cold ocean below Tipoca City, his father keeping guard on the platform above. There was danger, but there was also protection. This was how you learned.

Boba had idolized his father. Even now, he always imagined looking up at him from a child’s perspective. He was actually a little taller than Jango had been. He’d had better nutrition as a child. Jango had made sure of that.

So many people had asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. The Kaminoans. His father’s associates. Random people who didn’t know how to talk to a child and desperately sought a topic an adult could relate to. He’d always said he wanted to be a bounty hunter, just like his dad. They’d all smile and say how nice, how fitting. They were sure he would grow to be exactly like his father. He was a clone after all.

But Jango had never asked that question. Every time Boba would bring up becoming a bounty hunter he’d just laugh and ruffle Boba’s hair. At the time, Boba had taken that reaction as confirmation of Boba’s destiny. Or at least as much of a destiny as Boba believed could exist. He now realized Jango had just been amused and maybe a little flattered by the obvious hero worship. 

After his father’s death, fulfilling that purpose seemed like the best way to keep Jango’s memory alive. Boba chased that ghost more relentlessly than any bounty until he realized he’d not only caught up but eclipsed his father as a hunter and… Jango was still gone. The vacancy remained, and bounty hunting wasn’t enough to fill that emptiness. But it was all Boba knew how to do.

Then he’d found Lind. The first person in decades who wanted him around regardless of his livelihood, though he didn’t understand  _ why _ . All Boba saw in his own reflection was his father’s face. His identity was entirely wrapped up in his father and his work. What was he beyond those two things? If not bounty hunting, what had he been born for? 

No. Not born. He’d been made to order, like all the other clones. Every single one had been created with a purpose. The only difference was his purpose hadn’t been neatly filed alongside his CT designation in the Kaminoan databases.

Some people thought clones were just carbon copies. Interchangeable and doomed to repeat the same thoughts and behaviors as their template. Even as a clone himself, Boba had developed that same bias. He was  _ a  _ clone while the others were  _ The _ Clones. The others were a monolithic hivemind of drones, stripped of any parts but those necessary for firing a blaster and taking orders. He thought of them as half men, incapable of independent thought and desire. Some were grown to be stronger and smarter, but they were still inferior copies. Boba had all the potential and twice the opportunity as their source. He was  _ special _ .

But all of that was bullshit. Rex had defied his orders. He’d survived and forged a new purpose wholly unlike what the Kaminoans, the Republic, the Jedi, or the Empire had intended for him. Boba supposed it made sense he’d wind up in a Rebellion. Rex carried himself with the self assurance of a man that, on a fundamental level, understood who he was and where he belonged in the galaxy. He had an entire life of experience completely apart from Boba or Jango. He was living proof that all the clones had been autonomous beings. 

Boba wasn’t special. It could have been him in that white armor and someone else in his own bucket. It could have been Rex.

On paper, the clone army sounded good. Elite warriors, quality controlled, trained from birth to protect peace and freedom. Rex embodied the horrible reality. A man aged well beyond his years, maimed by war and genetic tinkering, abandoned by the people he and his brothers killed and died for. 

Rex was the consequence of Jango Fett’s choices made flesh, and he was demanding that Boba reckon with that legacy.

There was a question Boba had been avoiding all his life, but he couldn’t dodge it any longer. If Tyranus had offered Boba that contract, would he have taken it? 

The hard truth was that Boba could never accept the kind of deal that led to his own birth, and he wasn’t sure what that said about either him or his father. Boba didn’t consider himself particularly bogged down by morality, but no amount of credits could buy him peace for fathering then abandoning a literal army of children. 

How did Jango justify his choice? Had he believed the clones were mindless extensions of himself? Jango had been practical and efficient. There was no way he would have permitted egocentric delusion as long as Boba had. He must have realized the true nature of the clones much sooner. How could he not? He would have seen his child’s face tessellated in the barracks and simulation chambers, playing war games to prime them for their inevitable and senseless deaths. If any survived the fight ahead, he knew they would lead abbreviated lives, barely any time left to find peace or purpose of their own. He had doomed them.

Did Jango regret what he had done or had he simply not cared? Boba had loved Jango, but he hadn’t understood him. 

Jango had been an honored warrior and briefly in the running for uncontested Mand’alor before he lost everything on Galidraan. Everyone Jango had ever loved had died under his watch. That must have been rock bottom for him, the way the sarlacc had been for Boba. 

Boba’s experience had spurred him to pursue Lind over his career and common sense. What had Jango’s experience done to his priorities? Boba realized the answer lay in his condition for accepting the contract from Tyranus. One unaltered clone. Maybe he and Boba had wanted the same thing after all; a second chance at family.

Boba wanted that to be a comfort, but it wasn’t. Boba’s life had been dictated by what Jango would have wanted. The idea that Jango had ever been just as lost, that he had made mistakes and that he might have been wrong... it deeply unsettled Boba. 

What was the legacy he’d wanted to leave for Boba in the first place? Bounty hunting? A galaxy changing army that put their face in the history books? Their lost heritage as Mandalorians? 

Looking back on the training games Jango used to play with him, Boba had always been the prey. Running, hiding, fighting back against a bigger and stronger opponent. He realized that it had all been as carefully orchestrated as the simulations Jango had programmed for the clones. He wasn’t training Boba to be a soldier or a bounty hunter. He was teaching him to survive.

Boba had never considered that the legacy had been simply… himself. Nothing more. Perhaps Jango had needed just one person he loved to be safe. Maybe even happy. To prove a man like Jango Fett was capable of at least one truly good thing. 

This revelation felt like the first time his father had tossed him into the ocean. Jango wasn’t there to pull him out this time, and he didn’t know if he could break back through the surface of the dark water on his own.

He’d always told himself that Jango would have been proud of what he’d become, but now he doubted that. He’d spent so much time trying to be like his father with only a child’s understanding of who Jango had been. Why, of all things, had Boba thought  _ bounty hunting _ was what Jango had wanted to be remembered for? He’d fought and suffered for Boba to have a better life, and how had Boba repaid that debt? By lumping himself in with his clone brothers as cannon fodder for causes he had no true stake in. 

Looking at Rex, beaten down by time and grief but still fighting, Boba felt like he was finally seeing his father clearly for the first time. Seeing not only how he had once been, but how he would have become if he had lived long enough to have the gray in his hair and the deep laugh lines that Rex had. Tired. Flawed. Determined. 

Boba no longer felt like he was looking up at Jango. They were eye to eye. He’d finally, truly, caught up to him.

Jango… no, Rex, reached out and planted his hand on Boba’s shoulder, his crow’s feet deepening as he smiled at him. It was like he could see Boba’s thoughts playing out on his face. Maybe he could. It was his face, too, after all.

_ You’re such a smart boy. _

“I think he’d be real proud you, kid.”

_ Kid?  _ Boba almost wanted to argue. He was older than Rex, but he didn’t feel like it. Something told him it wasn’t the accelerated aging.

He looked down at his lap where he was clutching his helmet in a vice grip. The same way he’d held it, all alone in that empty arena, when he’d still thought of it as Jango’s face. That was a long time ago. It was his face now. It was time he stopped letting the dead set his jump coordinates.

He placed it on the Falcon’s console beside Rex’s old clone trooper helmet. They shared the same style rangefinder Jango had favored and the same base template of all Mandalorian helmets. Even so, no one would have ever mistaken one for the other. Boba kind of fancied the jaig eyes sigil Rex had adorned his helmet with. He vaguely remembered Jango saying those had to be earned. Maybe Lind could tell him how. Maybe they’d paint them for him...

“I used to think the mission was all that mattered,” Rex said. They both kept their gazes fixed on the helmets. “That’s what they always taught us on Kamino. Now though… I reckon it’s the people at your shoulder that make the fight worth it.”

Jango had a saying that there were no friends, only allies to discard when they were no longer convenient. Boba had stuck to that idea like it was religion until Lind and Tippi. He didn’t know if Jango would have approved of them, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. Boba wanted them at his shoulder not because they made the job easier, but because they made it worth doing at all. He wondered who stood at Rex’s shoulder. 

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Boba was mulling over what it could have been like if Jango had requested two sons when the cockpit’s entrance slid open and Lind entered. Their helmet turned left then right as they took in the two faces.

“Well,” they said. “It’s good to know you’ll still be a looker if you manage not to die for long enough.” Boba didn’t bother trying to maintain his dignity. He stuck his tongue out at them. 

“Still a brat!” Rex laughed at him. 

Boba started to turn his head and repeat the childish gesture at Rex as well, but Lind cupped the back of his head with their hand to keep his face turned toward them. Boba didn’t fight back. He knew a better deal when it was presented. Lind leaned down, pulling him into a Keldabe Kiss. 

“We’re all done here. It’s time to go home.”

As they followed Lind from the cockpit, helmets tucked under their arms, Rex lightly jabbed Boba in the ribs with his elbow. He nodded at Lind’s back and gave Boba a look that might as well have been spoken aloud.  _ Nice catch, brother _ .

He knew that Rex wasn’t Jango, but his approval created a warmth in Boba’s chest anyway. He couldn’t help a small smile as they reentered the main hold. 

Apparently, the uj cake had finally been discovered. There was just a single small slice left in the tin, which Organa was dutifully guarding. Solo in particular was eyeing it with a degree of covetousness Boba found gratifying. He was learning to enjoy subtler kinds of revenge nowadays.

Organa was the first to notice their arrival and offered Rex the last slice. She must have been saving it for him. Boba was tickled by the pleased noise Rex made as he sampled it. Boba’s good mood was cut abruptly short when Calrissian caught sight of them. He did an exaggerated double take before giving a low whistle.

“Well what have we here? You’re aging pretty damn fine for a clone. What’s your skincare routine?”

“He’s original recipe,” Rex said, licking his fingers clean. “No tampering. He’s actually the oldest of all of us.”

“There’s just something distinguished about an older man...” Calrissian winked at Boba. 

Boba’s eye twitched. He regretted not putting his helmet back on before leaving the cockpit. He’d got so caught up in that new sense of brotherhood that for a critical moment he’d forgotten the most insufferable people he knew were waiting outside.

Evidently, Tippi had finished whatever it was she had been doing in the wall. She liked to ride on Lind’s shoulders sometimes to experience life at a higher altitude, so Boba wasn’t surprised to find her perched on Chewbacca like a space pirate’s Kowakian lizard-monkey. She had been in the midst of an animated retelling of some misadventure before she’d been interrupted. 

“As I was saying,” she glared down at Calrissian who looked entirely unrepentant. “You should come out with us some time, Chewie.”

“Well, don’t mind if I-” Calrissian tried to inject himself.

“Not you,” was Tippi’s firm response before turning back to Chewbacca. Boba was so glad he didn’t let her die. “So anyway, this one time we were hanging out at Oga’s on Batuu and I got Lind so hammered they got up on the table and- hold on, Chewie could you…?” Tippi pointed downwards and Chewie gently lowered her from his shoulder to the floor. She immediately regained some height by scrambling onto the Dejarik table to reenact Lind’s drunken performance of the Mandalorian war song, Vode An. Chewie howled with laughter. “It was amazing!” Tippi giggled, slapping her knee. “No one else knew the words. The weequay gang tried so hard.”

“It was my greatest humiliation,” Lind said solemnly. “Which Tippi promised no one would ever know about. I will be sorry to kill you all.”

“Of course, we get it. Matter of dignity,” Lando drawled. Artoo rolled over and gently bumped Lind’s leg in a show of solidarity. They bent down to give his dome a fond little pat. Boba was starting to worry they were amassing an army of droids who hated him on purpose.

“Don’t feel bad, Lind,” Rex reached out to lay his hand on their shoulder. “Every brother knows the words. Boba and I would have sung with you.” Boba was resolutely silent as he glared at Rex.

“Maybe you can teach us the words the next time we meet, Lind,” Organa said kindly.

“I know the words, too,” Lando said. Everyone turned to look at him, which probably made his day. “Do you people have any idea how many clones I have slept with?” Chewie gave a chortling howl as Lando threw them a mock military salute. “Just doing my civic duty for our brave men at arms. Lemme tell ya,” Lando said as he pointed a finger at Rex and Boba, who sported identical expressions of horror. “They certainly didn’t make  _ that _ face.”

“Lando,” Lind said. “I almost like you when you’re not withholding product for small talk. You remind me of a friend.”

“A good looking friend I hope?” Lind shrugged.

“She’s ok. You’d get along.”

Rex turned to Boba. “You and I must have gotten lucky with whatever genetics determine taste in men.”

“I’ll have you gentlemen know I am  _ very  _ tasteful.” Lando winked. 

“On that note… my thanks for your time and hospitality,” Lind addressed the group once more. “I can never face any of you ever again. Goodbye forever.”

Rex grabbed Boba’s arm as he went to follow Lind and Organa toward the exit.

“Please don’t leave me here with Lando,” he begged. Boba wasn’t confident he was joking.

He threw a mocking salute to Rex and abandoned him to his fate. They’d both have to lie in the beds they’d made. Not Boba’s fault his actually had someone in it he liked.

Tippi must not have gotten her fill of being tall, because she hopped onto his back and clambered onto his shoulders. She began chattering about all the fascinating things she’d discovered about the Falcon. Apparently, Chewbacca and Solo were handier ship technicians than he’d given them credit for if they impressed Tippi.

“The central intelligence of the system is really something else! I’ve never seen such a complex spacelane mapping algorithm before. I have all kinds of ideas for upgrading the Revenant’s system. This will finally end our debate over who has the best ship.”

“Unlikely,” Boba sniffed. “We both know the Slave I is superior. You just don’t want to accept the truth. ”

***

This debate about heo had the better ship had been ongoing for years now. Somehow, Lind got the feeling that unlike their animosity, it was never going to be laid to rest. They paused beside Leia at the entrance of the Falcon. They both watched in companionable silence as Boba and Tippi descended the ramp and continued across the docking bay, too engrossed in their argument to notice Lind was’t behind them. 

Lind turned to Leia and grasped her shoulder. She did not flinch or sway beneath Lind’s firm grip.

“Leia Organa, it’s a shame you don’t follow the way of the Mandalore. We are poorer for it.”

Leia smiled and gently laid a small hand on Lind’s shoulder in return. She was so small, but Lind felt every action she made had great weight behind it.

“May the Force be with you, Lind Balazs. You’d better get going. I think someone is waiting up for you.” She nodded towards the entrance of the docking bay. 

Tippi must have gone on ahead to warm up the Revenant’s systems. Boba stood in the entrance watching them. He slowly inclined his head to Leia. 

“What do you see in him?” Leia asked. Lind shrugged.

“What do you see in Han?” Leia laughed.

“Fair enough.”

Lind left Leia’s side and joined Boba. They wished Leia had agreed to come with them. If anyone had the sheer moxy needed to beat down Grandmother, it was Leia Organa.

“So what was all that with the princess?” Boba asked. “Should I be worried?”

“What if I said yes?” Boba’s lips pursed in that childish pout he would probably stop doing if he realized how it looked. Lind didn’t think they would ever tell him. They liked it too much.

“I would understand.” His face was grave. “She strangled Jabba to death with nothing but her own two hands and a slave chain. She has the upper body strength of a gundark and the face of an angel. I can’t compete with that.”

“I just can’t wrap my head around how she and Solo work.”

“He’s pretty good looking.” Lind stared at him. “What? I had to pass by his frozen face for a week in my cargo hold. A guy notices these things.”

“So when they inevitably split, I take her and you get him?” Boba bumped Lind’s shoulder with his.

“That’s a real bad deal.”

***

It sounded like the meeting had gone better than anticipated, but whatever went down between Lind and the princess had drained their power cells. Tippi suggested they toast their success but all Lind had wanted to do was lay down. They encouraged Tippi and Boba to have the toast without them before they shut their door.

Boba made to follow after them, but Tippi grabbed him by one of the large pockets on his leg.

“I think that’s Lind-speak for they want to be alone, Boba.” 

“I know. I just… thought maybe I should go be alone in there with them.”

“What’s their special pet name for you again?”

“Di’kut.”

“And how. C’mon, let’s go have that drink in the cockpit and look at the stars. You can go cuddle up to Lind after they’ve had time to deal with… whatever this is.”

They sat down and Tippi poured them both small glasses of a slightly less cheap Corellian whiskey she’d had Lind pick up.

“Here’s to Lind’s bafflingly effective diplomatic ability,” she said.

“Cheers.” Boba clinked his glass against hers. They simultaneously took a pull. Boba’s nose wrinkled. “This tastes like liquid coaxium gone to pot.”

“Yeah. Ain’t it great?”

“You’re real sick, you know that, Tip?”

“Mmhmm.” She took another big gulp. You wouldn’t think someone that size would be able to hold her liquor but her metabolism was so quick if she paced herself properly she could drink beings twice her size under the table. Allowing for several trips to the ‘fresher between rounds of course. 

“Tip?”

“What?”

“Do you ever wish Lind would take their helmet off for you?” Tippi took another sip to give herself time to collect her thoughts.

“I mean, yeah? I was curious when we first met. They seemed so mysterious. Then I got them all figured out and it just… stopped mattering. That helmet is the face Lind wants me to see so as far as I’m concerned that’s their real face.”

“That’s how I feel about my helmet,” Boba said. “I have the same face as my father and a million other men. It never really felt like my own.”

“Hm. Yeah, I guess that would be kind of surreal,” Tippi agreed.

“I blew it up once.”

“Your face?”

“The helmet. Cracked it clean in half trying to get revenge on the Jedi who killed my dad.”

“That was stupid.”

“I was eleven. What do you want from me?”

“You’re still stupid as an adult, so not much.”

“I think the Jedi who arrested me had some kind of crisis of conscience after.”

“Was that the same one who killed your dad?”

“No. Different one. This one was a Kel Dor. He went and found an armorer to repair the helmet. You can still see in a couple places where it split on the inside. He gave it back to me after I was released.”

“And then you never took it off again until you started batting those big brown peepers at my Lind.”

“I didn’t wear it for the longest time. I felt like I had to earn the right. Stake my claim on my own. When I finally did decide it was time, I repainted it. I didn’t want to see my father’s face there, too.” 

“Oh,” was all Tippi had. She took another sip of her drink.

“I don’t know. I was tired of constantly being reminded of the clones, I guess. I just got obsessed with the idea of being number one. Can’t be compared if you’re incomparable.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“I know.”

“So, if you know what it’s like seeing your helmet as your own face, why are you so hung up about seeing what’s under Lind’s?”

“Lind wears their helmet for a different reason. If they took it off for me, it would mean something. That I belong here. With them. I haven’t belonged anywhere in a long time.” He shrugged. “I always used to think being a small part of a bigger group sort of diminished a person.”

“Ooooh, big word.”

“Just saying... it might be time I rethought a few things. Being a part of something might be a nice change of pace.”

Tippi patted his arm with her prosthetic. 

“Since you want to be in the club so bad, do you think you could do your part and take a crack at organizing the cargo hold? MS-E tries its best, but it’s just not cutting it.”

“Kriff off, Tip,” he elbowed her shoulder before his face turned serious again. “What I meant was… I like being here.”

“Of course you do. Lind’s here and you like Lind. Ergo, here is  _ good _ .”

“It’s more than just Lind. It’s this ship. Even you,” he admitted grudgingly. “I wouldn’t admit to half this stuff out loud anywhere else in the galaxy. Not even the Slave I. Feels like everywhere I turn there’s someone watching over my shoulder. Out to profit off my success or celebrate my defeat. I’m a useful tool at best. But here…”

“We stand to lose as much as you if we betray each other. We’re in equilibrium.”

“At first that’s how it was. But something’s changed. It stopped being about how useful you two could be to me. I don’t feel like you’re seeing my father or the clones or my reputation when you’re looking at me. There’s no expectations to live up to. I can do and say things I never even let myself think about before. I don’t know how to describe it exactly...”

“Safe,” Tippi said. “You feel safe.”

“Safe.” He repeated the word like it was brand new to him. Tippi supposed, in this context, it was. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

“I feel safe here, too. It didn’t used to feel like this before Lind moved in. That first year it just felt like a place to hide. Now it’s home. So really, we’re just back where we started. Lind is here, so transitively, here is safe.”

“Like I said. It’s not just Lind.” He gave Tippi a significant look and lightly punched her shoulder. She gave a funny little wiggle as a frisson of joy and embarrassment traveled through her from toe to ear tips. She looked away from him.

“It’s a nice ship, isn’t it?”

“Sure. Real nice ship. You do good work, Tip.” 

They sat in silence for a while. Boba had a light frown on his face that Tippi had learned meant deep thought rather than bad mood. At last he spoke again. “When I’m here with you two, I feel free to be more than I am.”

Tippi nodded. She studied his profile as he stared ahead out of the cockpit’s viewport. It occurred to her that he must have spent his life learning the same harsh lesson over and over. Investment in others is the root of pain. Better to cut yourself off from the source.

That was a lesson Tippi had taken to heart once, too… then she met Lind. She had realized that the amputation had reduced her in a crucial way. What was lost wasn’t like her arm. There was no adequate facsimile or replacement. The pain returned, but this time it felt so heavy Tippi was sure the weight would crush her. She could barely hold up on her own. That harsh lesson was a lie, and Tippi had been made weaker for believing it.

Steadfast Lind had unwittingly lent her their strength when she needed it most. They had provided her with the safe harbor she needed to begin repairing the damage. And now in turn, she had become one of the architects of Boba’s harbor.

“Boba, you said you thought something changed but you didn’t know what.”

“I did. Something about our situation. Can’t quite get my head around it.”

“Have you considered what changed might be you?” The little furrow between his eyebrows was back. She shrugged her prosthetic shoulder. “Just a thought.” Boba didn’t say anything.

They both leaned back in their seats and stared up at the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack:  
> I Wanna Go Back by Eddie Money  
> Talk To Me by Stevie Nicks  
> The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives  
> Remains by Bastille Vs. Rag’N’Bone Man Vs. Skunk Anansie  
> When The Night Is Over by Lord Huron


	13. Vainglorious

When Boba told Lind he’d taken a job for the Bounty Hunters’ Guild they hadn’t said anything. Their only response was to remove his helmet and grab the medical scanner to check for another major concussion.

The political shakeup had caused a ripple effect throughout the private sector, including the Guild’s operations. Neither the New Republic nor the Imperial remnants were in a financial position to offer large bounties, and the stream of job offers from that avenue had been reduced to a trickle. There were still crime lords and other private clients, but it was a big loss. Even Boba’s inbox was a little less full these days. 

It was unfortunate when the accounting team noticed the Guild was hemorrhaging more money than even these hard times warranted. Evidence was uncovered that one of their agents had been double dealing and taking kickbacks. Whoever it was covered enough tracks well and had access to the internal affairs of the Guild. Identifying them had been a no go. Enough of the Guild’s hunters were potentially in bed with the agent that the administration decided to go out of network, so to speak.

Boba’s involvement in the investigation was an open secret. Technically, none of the Guild’s members should know… unless the guilty party told them. Lind had been much less thrilled than Boba when a couple hunters that were affiliated with the Nevarro chapter ambushed him. 

The suspects were as follows; the established agent on Nevarro, Esh Jann, and her protege, a former Imperial magistrate named Greef Karga. They both had solid motives. Esh had been looking to retire for years. A little extra income could really move her timeline along. Meanwhile, Karga had been disbarred from his magistrate position, though no one seemed to agree on the exact circumstances. Working for the guild didn’t allow him to maintain his former lifestyle. Maybe he’d bent the rules a little too far again to make up for it.

Whoever it was, Boba was getting too close for comfort. They had been sloppy in their attempt to shake Boba who decided to capitalize on that panic to flush them out. Boba needed to publicly flaunt his presence on Nevarro, but he also needed to be lying in wait when the target bolted. No matter his reputation, even Boba Fett couldn’t be in two places at once.

As he was lying in the bunk beside Lind, Boba suggested a little roleplay. It wasn’t something they’d ever considered before but he insisted it would be fun. Lind had reluctantly agreed. That’s how they found themselves standing in the hall, self conscious under Boba’s roving eyes. They thought it was a little strange for Tippi to be involved in this. It was stranger still seeing Boba wear civvies. But the strangest of all was Lind wearing Boba’s infamous armor.

“We both killed a lot of people for doing exactly this,” Lind muttered. 

“It’s different when you do it, Lind,” Boba replied as he tilted his head to get a new angle. “I am  _ into it.  _ Don’t even care if it makes me sound in love with myself.”

“Oh, no one would ever accuse you of  _ that _ ,” Tippi said with a roll of her eyes. “They wear it better than you do.”

Lind definitely had the imposing stature to match Boba’s imposing reputation. People were routinely disappointed to find Boba was barely average height. 

“How about you give us a spin, Lind?” Boba grinned. “Let me check out that back plate...” Lind made no comment about the innuendo. They had more pressing concerns.

“Boba, this is even worse to wear than it is to look at,” they complained. “I just keep finding new things to hate. Who puts pockets on their ankles and then actually USES them?? The tools are bruising my shins every time I take a step. And you don’t need spats if you don’t have boot guards. Boba, I am begging you. Let me make you some leg armor.”

“I told you. I don’t like the weight. Slows me down and it makes too much noise. Plus, those pockets are convenient.”

“How??? Explain to me  _ HOW _ ? Look, if you let me measure you for some shin guards, we can open negotiations for that thing you keep asking about...”

Boba’s eyebrows shot up.

“Which  _ thing _ ?”

“From that look, you already know  _ exactly  _ which thing.”

“You two have the sex for favors thing completely warped,” Tippi said.

“Don’t listen to her,” Boba interjected. “Extort me, Lind.”

“I never said the thing in question was sexual,” Lind said defensively. 

“Didn’t have to,” Tippi replied, pointing at Boba’s unabashed grin. 

Lind wasn’t insulted that Boba insisted on being the one to stake out the air fields. He was the boss on this job, after all. They were still a little resentful over having to stand around the cantina fending off both Fett’s admirers and rivals. 

Lind had been passingly curious what the galaxy looked like through Boba’s visor, but they had never wanted to actually experience it themselves. For someone like Boba, being the center of all that attention must have been lovely. For Lind, it was a nightmare.

They had participated in no less than three bar fights in the hour they had been nursing their Sarlacc Kicker, which itself was the source of one fight. It tasted like they were licking the Slave I’s chemically sanitized deck. The only reason Boba Fett hadn't been blacklisted at the establishment was because no one felt brave enough to ask Lind to  _ please leave _ .

The fighting wasn’t the worst part of it, though. Lind had gotten the odd bucket chaser now and then over the years, but apparently Boba Fett had a dedicated subdivision of the fetish.  _ Fettish _ . Lind wished Boba was the type to crack puns because that one was so good and they couldn't even tell anyone. Now  _ that _ was the worst part.

A close contender for the worst part of the evening was the nature of Boba’s would-be suitors. There had been one beefy zabrak, but for the most part, they had been beautiful and feminine. Lind was monogamous as they came, but even so, they found themselves tongue tied. 

When confronted by a pair of pretty batting lashes, their critical social faculties were overwhelmed and shut down until it was safe to reboot and reflect on the panicked nonsense that had come out of their vocoder. Lind just couldn’t shake feeling embarrassed by how unworthy of romantic attention they were. What could someone like them possibly have to offer?

Boba Fett didn’t have that problem. He had no qualms about teasing right back and was unaffected by a little artfully arranged cleavage. Lind could fight like him, but flirting like him was a tall order when their wires were so crossed.

Lind thought they were doing admirably, all things considered. Maybe Boba Fett was a bit shorter and gruffer in his romantic rebuttals than usual, but so far they had all eventually given up the pursuit. 

Someone tapped Lind’s shoulder. They turned around to face whoever it was, hoping this next person was just looking for a fight. Turned out, this person wasn't interested in either option.

“You realize, friend, if you let them catch you once in a while they might stop chasing?”

Oh no.

They had been counting on nobody knowing Boba beyond his reputation and maybe brief glimpses from a distance. Although the armor was genuine and Tippi had altered the pitch of the vocoder to a reasonable approximation of Boba’s voice, someone who actually knew Boba Fett wouldn’t be fooled by the disguise. For instance, someone like Hondo Ohnaka, of Ohnaka Transport Solutions.

“I come all this way to hire some business associates and what do I find but my dear old friend, Boba! My boy! Have you gotten taller? I was starting to think puberty would never come for you! You are a man at last! Have a drink with me to celebrate!”

Well, at least he wasn’t announcing the ruse to the entire bar. It could be worse.

Then it got worse. One of the newly acquired business associates Hondo had mentioned appeared at his shoulder. It was Din Djarin. Lind didn’t think he would recognize that this was not, in fact, Boba Fett, but the presence of someone they knew personally made Lind all the more nervous about their performance. They shot at people for a living. They weren’t an actor. 

“Fett,” Din greeted them coldly with a nearly imperceptible nod. Lind almost greeted him by name in return before realizing Lind Balazs may have had reason to know Din’s name but Boba Fett absolutely did not. They settled on a silent nod in return. Lind was grateful for Boba’s bullheaded insistence on maintaining his mysterious aura and terse vocabulary in public. There was less chance of Lind saying the wrong thing. 

Din turned to Hondo and asked, “You sure this guy is the real deal?”

“But of course!” Hondo exclaimed. His usual tone of voice sounded like a bad theatrical production. It made it much harder to pick out lies when everything sounded false. “There is only one Boba Fett, is there not?” Hondo gave Lind a wink. “All those little copy tookas must have kept you busy after your little accident.”

“I had some help.”

“Ah yes! Lind Balazs, yes?” Din’s helmet swing towards Hondo in clear surprise. “They were so distraught when they heard of your passing!”

“They were??” Din was incredulous, but Hondo ignored him.

“Crushed! My heart bled for them! And let me tell you, so did your wannabe when he caught up to them.” He guffawed, before giving them a sly glance from the corner of his eye. “So tell me, have you seen them recently?” Lind had to give him credit. The wily old pirate wasn’t the bumbling fool he projected. 

“Fairly recently,” Lind said. Din’s helmet turned sharply back towards them. Lind hadn’t been too free with the details of their fight with Boba on Nevarro. All he knew was Lind had won the fight and escaped. When Din had returned their swoop, he’d been concerned that Fett might be the vengeful kind. When they’d met again to hand off some equipment for his armorer, he mentioned he’d heard rumors that Lind had been spotted in the same vicinity as Fett an alarming number of times. He was worried, and urged them to be careful. As far as he knew, Boba Fett was still a potential threat. 

Only a handful of others in their covert were aware of their alliance with Boba, but they were pretty sure only Tir and Sasch knew the full details. Sasch liked to run a tight starship, and she didn’t need the waves that scandal would cause. Even Grandmother still didn’t know, though Sasch said she was growing suspicious. 

Grandmother wasn’t the only one. Rumors about Fett’s strange behavior had been circulating between the coverts, and among the other runners in particular. They all tried to avoid him when possible, but sometimes there was no getting out of an encounter. Previous experiences had almost always ended in animosity, but lately, the vendetta had begun to feel one sided on the part of the Mandos. 

Lind wasn’t sure how Din might react to the truth. He could be an ally or a leaking fuel canister, and this situation wasn’t where they wanted to find out which. 

“How interesting,” Hondo leered.

“Just business.”

“Still not mixing with pleasure, my friend?” Boy, was he.

“I’m never pleased.”

“Oh, but you could be, I think! Why not come work for me, eh? You and Lind. Why, with this fellow here, we’d have a trio! Think of the possibilities!” Din kept glancing between them, like he was watching a Sabacc match he’d bet his starship on.

“I work alone.” Bless all those little Boba-isms. Better than prompt cards.

“And we are all of us the poorer for it. Literally!” Hondo laughed uproariously. Lind might normally have enjoyed the terrible joke, but they were too stressed out to have a sense of humor about the situation.

“I don’t know if I would trust his teamwork,” said Din bitterly. If you want Mandos, you don’t need him. He isn’t one of us. He can’t be trusted.”

It hurt to hear Din direct that sentiment at them, even if he thought they were someone else. Knowing that loathing was directed at Boba hurt worse. Lind didn’t want to tiptoe around the subject of Boba Fett with their own people for the rest of their life. They didn’t want him to be a dirty little secret, but how could they have any hope for acceptance when everyone thought so poorly of him? 

“I suppose our friend here is a bit of a diva. No offense, Boba!” Lind grunted. They didn’t even have to fake the annoyance. Hondo was right, but Lind didn’t feel like being critical of Boba at that moment. “We both know you have never played well with others. Speaking of, what are you doing here of all places?” Good old Hondo. They could always count on him to dig for information he could turn into credits. “I know business has been bad but surely not so bad for you to stoop low as _ this _ ?” Hondo gestured at the crowd before he turned to Din, laid a pacifying hand on his breastplate, and said, “No offense, my Mando friend.”

Lind decided to take a risk. They directed their visor firmly at Din.

“Thought I’d take in the sights,” they said. “Fine bit of real estate. No noisy neighbors. Real interesting sewer system. Spacious.” 

Lind had stumbled upon an entrance to the network of tunnels beneath the town on their last trip to Nevarro to receive payment for a Guild bounty. The location was perfect for a small covert like Din’s. It was time for them to move on soon.

If ‘Boba’ offered Din assistance, that might help him earn a little goodwill. Lind just hoped Din would read the hints for the help they were meant to be … and Boba wouldn’t find a way to screw it up down the line somehow. It was a little manipulative. It was something Sasch might have done, and probably done better. 

Hondo had a bemused smile on his face, clearly taken aback by such an odd answer to his question but trying to be polite about it. Din’s helmet had tilted to the side, like he was giving ‘Boba’ a hard second look. Lind hoped he was seeing something redeemable.

There was a sudden ruckus at the entrance of the cantina. A scowling, bare-faced Boba entered, carrying the limp body of Esh Jann over his shoulder.

“Another familiar face!” Hondo said. “Looks just like someone I used to know. Several someones, actually.”

With a dull thud and no ceremony, Boba tossed the body down onto the bar. Lind thought they heard a faint groan. That was good. Boba would get more credits if she lived. It would be easier for the Guild to access her bank accounts and retrieve its stolen property... plus a little interest.

“Boba Fett sends his regards,” he announced to the room. 

The crowd murmured with shock and speculation. He wasn’t a familiar face, but even a lowly subcontractor was to be admired if he was good enough to work with Boba Fett. Boba walked with his head high and shoulders squared to stand beside Lind. The crowd parted for him. Lind rolled their eyes so hard they almost worried they’d roll right out of their sockets. Show off.

“Well my friend,” Hondo said, opening his arms wide in greeting. “It has been a long time since I have… eh heh…  _ seen _ you.”

“Hondo,” Boba nodded.

Most of the crowd had been giving Lind a healthy amount of space after the fifth fight and third romantic rejection, but it looked like someone had worked up the courage to take another shot at them.

She was a petite theelin. She had similar lavender coloring to the bartender and Lind wondered if they were related. She was small, delicately boned and had such expressive eyes. She smiled up at Lind, ignoring their companions. Din watched the theelin and Lind, while Hondo watched Boba. Hondo’s giddy smile got impossibly wider.

The girl opened her mouth to deliver whatever opening line she’d cooked up when she was cut off by the arrival of Greef Karga, who was glancing nervously at his former associate draped over the counter. He set a case full of credits down on the bar and opened it for Lind to inspect.

“There’s the payment, Fett. As agreed.” He glanced nervously at Jann once more. If he’d had plans to follow in her criminal footsteps he was clearly having second thoughts. “Looks like another job well done.” 

“That’s the only way I do ‘em,” Lind said and immediately cringed. They glanced at Boba. They hoped he wasn’t mad that they were making him look like a corny idiot. 

He  _ was  _ mad, but not at them. He was glaring vibro blades at the theelin who was still standing too close to be respectable. She had noticed his attention and was starting to look a bit nervous.

“I wasn’t aware you had an associate,” said Karga. “I could split the payment for you? Save you the trouble later?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Boba chimed in. He snaked his arm around Lind’s waist while maintaining significant eye contact with the theelin. “We have a joint account.” 

She wilted under his glare and slunk off from whence she came. Boba wasn’t above a bold faced lie if it meant winning. Lind refused to play Dejarik with him or Tippi anymore. Playing with them was just a contest to see who could cheat better. 

Karga’s eyebrows were raised but he wisely made no comment about the exchange. He excused himself as quickly as possible.

Hondo looked like a child on Life Day. 

“We’re done here,” Lind said, trying not to sound too eager. “Let’s go.”

“Going so soon?” Hondo put a beseeching hand out. “Will you not have a drink with me to celebrate your success?”

“Like they said,” Boba growled. Din tilted his helmet at the unexpected pronoun. _They?_ “We’re done here.” Lind knew Boba wouldn’t make a mistake like that when it mattered. Now that the job was delivered and done, he didn’t care who knew it wasn’t Boba Fett in the armor. 

“Oh very well, very well,” Hondo sighed. “Perhaps next time.” He brightened up and addressed Lind. “It takes a lot to get under this one’s armor,” he rapped his knuckles against Boba’s very much unarmored belly. “One day you will have to sit down with your old friend Hondo and tell him how you managed it. And so literally!” Din’s visor was darting between the three of them in visible confusion. He knew he was missing something, but hadn’t figured out exactly what.

As they passed Din, Lind reached out and pinched his dingy shore trooper pauldron between their fingers.

“Still haven’t found that replacement like I told you to?” Din jolted away from them. He stared in shock for a moment, processing.

“Lind??” he hissed in disbelief.

“Who’s Lind? I’m Boba Fett, galaxy’s most poorly dressed bounty hunter.”

Boba glared at them.

“I’m not _ that  _ bad,” he mumbled. Not quietly enough, from the way Din’s helmet swung sharply to look at him. 

Din had clearly solved the mystery of mistaken identity. Boba raised his chin and single arched eyebrow in what Lind had come to think of as his  _ What of it? _ face. Din looked back at Lind who simply shrugged at him, grabbed Boba’s wrist, and pulled him towards the door. His smirk was so smug he might as well have stuck his tongue out at everyone watching them leave.  _ The child _ . 

Looked like both the Guild’s and coverts’ rumor mills were about to start churning.

To Boba’s delight, Lind stripped out of his armor the minute the hatch had closed behind them on the Slave I. He’d had the entire flight back to the Revenant to tell them exactly how he felt about them wearing nothing but their skivvies and his helmet. Even better than the full armor! 

Lind thought he enjoyed the frustrated little noises they were making much more than their state of undress. Lind’s undergarments weren’t particularly sexy. Like everything else they wore, it was practical and covered most of their body. Boba just got off on being difficult.

Once they docked with the other ship, Lind wasted no time returning to their quarters to switch their helmet for Boba’s, which they then shoved into his arms before locking him out of the cockpit.

Boba eventually gave up trying to convince them to lock themselves in a different part of the ship with him instead of Tippi. Lind sat and savored the peace and quiet as the Revenant and the Slave I drifted in orbit above one of Nevarro’s moons, still joined together by their airlocks. 

Tippi sat beside them, fiddling with a tricky modification on a decommissioned DRK-1 probe droid she had picked up in a scrapyard. She’d been excited by the opportunity it presented to remotely assist Lind on missions.

DRK-1 made a sad burbling noise as Tippi reconnected a wire. Lind had always been told droids couldn’t feel pain, but MS-E’s sympathetic little trill made Lind question the assertion.

“Ok, try your repulsor system now,” Tippi instructed. DRK-1 cautiously rose into the air, before making an experimental zig zag motion. It made another noise like a scrambled comm message before it began zipping around the cockpit. MS-E tried to mirror its progress from the floor. 

Lind thought it was sweet until DRK-1 swooped down to bump the top of MS-E’s casing before darting away again. MS-E’s distressed beeps didn’t deter DRK-1 from making several more dives at its grounded target who was unable to retaliate in kind.

“Hey!” Lind swatted it away as it went for another go at MS-E. They stooped down and cradled MS-E to their chest with one arm like it was an infant. DRK-1 tried to sneak another little bop in, but Lind caught it and held it in place with their free hand. “Knock it off. MS-E never did anything to you.”

“Aw, c’mon Lind. It’s their programming. You personify droids too much.” Tippi’s actions were at odds with her words as she patted the top of DRK-1’s dome like it was a beloved pet. Lind had always suspected Tippi held a grudge about not being MS-E’s favorite.

“That thing is a little bully. You better program some manners for it.” Lind left the cockpit with MS-E, who was spinning its front wheels happily. They entered their quarters and set MS-E down by its charging station. Just to be contrary, Lind picked up one of the rags they used for cleaning and tucked MS-E in like a foundling on a cold night.

Looking at MS-E get as cozy as a box on wheels could, Lind was overcome by the desire to strip down and curl up in their own cozy bunk. Unfortunately, the bunk in question was already occupied by someone wearing only Lind’s decorative throw blanket and a lazy smile.

“About that  _ thing _ you promised me earlier…” Boba stuck a single leg out from beneath the blanket. It was the one with the worst scarring from the Sarlacc’s stomach acid. “Wanna take those measurements and then we’ll…” he finished with a quirk of his eyebrow. Lind wasn’t in the mood for this. They rarely were, but especially not at that moment.

“I am bound by no such promise. No official contract was drawn up. Don’t you have your own fekking bunk?”

“Sure do.”

“Well, go be naked in that one.”

“Only if you’re naked in there with me.”

“No deal. If you want to snuggle something, go find your old security blanket and leave me alone.”

His other eyebrow rose up to match the first, transforming the expression into that of a tooka begging for scraps from a quarren fishmonger.

“I’d rather snuggle with you.” That damn pouting lip.

“Stubborn di’kut. FINE.” Boba smiled like they’d addressed him with the sweetest endearment imaginable. “But snuggling is all that’s happening.”

Lind lowered the lights to zero percent, got undressed, and laid down beside him. Boba pulled them back against his chest and sighed happily into their hair.

“That negotiation tactic always works,” he said. He suddenly sounded as sleepy as Lind felt.

“What negotiation tactic?”

“Name a ridiculous price so the client does all the work to haggle you down to what you actually want.” He kissed the back of their neck, then yawned. “They always think they’re getting such a deal.”

“You couldn’t have left your clothes on for that?”

“Gotta use all my advantages for a successful negotiation with a tough client like you. Thought you liked my strong, solid body?”

“It’s definitely getting a bit more solid around the middle. You might need to lay off all the uj’alayi if you want to keep that ab definition you’re so proud of.”

“Thought you wanted me to get a hobby? Not my fault it tastes so good. Besides,” he squeezed them against his stomach, sounding terribly pleased with himself, “Makes you more prone to get snuggly with me.”

“Whatever happened to ‘I work alone’?”

“Is that a complaint?”

“No.” Lind turned over and gently pinched the thin layer of fat growing over his belly. “I like the way you snuggle.” 

Boba chuckled. It wasn’t long before Lind could hear his steady, gentle snores. They reached out to caress the prickly stubble on his chin. Lind was sure he must know, but even so, they wanted so very badly to tell him.

As hard as they tried, Lind couldn’t fall asleep.

***

One night cycle later, Boba was the one to join Tippi in the cockpit as they watched the system’s sun slowly come into view as they completed the orbital pattern.

The panel to Tippi’s nest had been left open so she could easily reach the kettle being warmed over her hot plate. Boba was nearing the dregs of his second cup of herbal tea and she anticipated he’d ask for another when he finished. He’d proven to have a more refined palate than Tippi would have imagined. She’d sort of assumed he lived on protein rations and murder. Speaking of good taste, they were both having some of Boba’s uj’alayi for breakfast. 

“Mind if I have the last slice?” he inquired.

“What am I? Your mother?” Boba shrugged at her.

“Got along this far without one just fine.”

“Do you know what a ‘colloquialism’ is? It’s a big, scary word, but you’ll figure it out. You don’t need my permission to eat your own damn pastry.”

“Well I’m learning another big, scary word called ‘manners’. You’re so smart with your fancy degree, but doesn’t seem like you learned it either.” Cheeky jerk.

“You know what? Yeah, I  _ do _ want that last slice.”

Tippi maintained aggressive eye contact while she nibbled on it. Boba was unmoved by her dominance display. She squinted at him.

“This was a trick, wasn’t it?” Tippi said. “You didn’t even want it.” Boba shrugged again. Tippi let herself actually enjoy the rest of the cake. As she licked the syrup from her claws she said, “Hate to feed that ego but...  _ kriff _ this is good. Maybe you could make me one with some dried cave jumpers sometime.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” he replied noncommittally. Tippi leered at him. She knew exactly what button to press.

“This might be the best uj cake I’ve ever had. Maybe even better than Sasch’s. Hard to say...”

He leaned forward in his seat, raising a finger to Tippi’s nose.

“Not maybe. Objectively better.” Got him. Boba Fett’s three favorite things were Lind, his job, and bragging, and Tippi wasn’t convinced it was in that order. “I went through hell to get this recipe so you better start showing a little more respect if you want those cave jumpers.”

“Oh c’mon. This isn’t even Sasch’s recipe. You just looked it up on the holonet. It tastes totally different.”

“Wrong. I do have Sasch’s recipe. It tastes different because I perfected it.”

“No you don't.” Boba had a manic gleam in his eyes. “...do you?”

“I damn well do.”

“How? No way she gave it to you. ”

“Remember that piece of Sasch’s cake that went missing a while back?”

“I _ knew _ it was you! I can’t believe you tried to turn me and Lind against each other!”

“That’s neither here nor there, Tip,” he said. “I deconstructed that kriffing cake. I rented an apartment with a full kitchen. I lost count of how many markets I sourced ingredients from. Just locked myself inside and experimented for a week.”

“Is that where you were? We thought you were on a job. What the hell brought this on? Have you ever even baked anything before?”

“No, I haven’t. Tir suggested it. Said it was relaxing. I figured I could do better than her, and then I figured I might as well outdo Sasch, too, while I was at it.”

“Boba, I don’t think anyone would call competitive baking for a week straight relaxing. Not even Tir. How much uj cake did you end up with?”

“About fifty loaves.”

“FIFTY?” 

“The guy at the local food bank gave me the same look.”

“Because you’re insane.”

“That must be one of your fancy higher education words for ‘genius’.”

“And so humble.”

“Doesn’t matter. I cracked it. You know what Sasch’s secret ingredient is for her hyper traditional Mando cake?”

“What?”

“That cheap nillian syrup from Malastare.”

“You’re kidding.”

“She’s using filthy aruetii ingredients, Tip. Nilli doesn’t grow in the Mandalore system. They don’t even import it there. That’s almost as bad as using a store-bought mix and calling it from scratch.” Sounded like he’d read his fair share of holonet recipe sites.

“Huh,” Tippi looked down at the last piece of uj’alayi she was holding. “So what did you put in this?” she popped the final piece into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “It tastes like...” Tippi’’s nose wrinkled as she tried to place the flavors.

“It tastes like victory. And artisanal spiced shuura syrup. It’s not on the market. There’s a vendor on Nar Shadaa who gets it straight from an orchard on Naboo. As close as you can get to the stuff from Kalevala.”

“What’s Kalevala?”

“Part of the Mandalore system. Used to export shuura crops before that Imperial export tax fiasco. Guess Palpatine didn’t like his home planet having competition in the fruit business. But the real secret ingredient...” Tippi’s ears tilted forward in anticipation... “Is pure spite.”

Tippi exploded with laughter, but Boba lunged forward to cover muffle it with his hand.

“Shut your trap. You’re gonna wake them.”

“Right right, sorry,” Tippi hiccupped as she tried to suppress her giggles.

Lind’s grandmother ran the covert like a boot camp for military recruits. Lind wasn’t a morning person, but at the first sound of their alarm they’d drag themselves out of bed in fear of a woman who wasn’t even present. Tippi had taken to disabling the alarm or resetting it for a much later hour, provided there were no appointments to keep. Lind had started to wise up and double check it, but Tippi has been having much more success with Boba as her accomplice. Letting Lind sleep in was a treat they had to be tricked into indulging.

Tippi always had a cup of Lind’s usual black caf warmed and waiting for them when they finally stumbled out of their quarters asking for the time with bleary concern. Lind was rarely hungry after waking, but Tippi always had a bland ration bar on hand to stuff past their helmet seal alongside a straw for the caf. Lind may not have had the lightning quick metabolism of a chadra-fan, but breakfast was still the most important meal of the cycle.

This time, when Lind finally appeared at the cockpit entrance, Tippi and Boba were concerned. This wasn’t their customary, half dressed, shambling mess. Not only were they fully clothed but all their armor was on straight. 

“I have a covert mission. I need backup.”

***

By the time they arrived at the sparsely populated planet of Lah’mu, Tippi finally figured out how Sasch managed to relay orders to Lind while they were presumably unconscious in their bunk with no access to the Revenant’s comm system. She simply hadn’t. This was a self appointed mission.

They left the Slave I in orbit and landed the Revenant near a nondescript rocky outcropping in the side of a hill. All other questions Tippi had about what kind of mission this was suddenly became moot when two heavily armed Mandalorians materialized from one of the small cave openings scattered among the rocks. The signets on their armor indicated they were part of Lind’s own covert, but they had their blasters drawn and pointed directly at Boba and Tippi’s foreheads.

“Lind,” Tippi hissed as the two seemingly unfriendly Mandos approached. “When you said you had a covert mission I wasn’t expecting it to be literally  _ in _ the covert. Are we gonna  _ DIE _ ?”

“Just relax, Tippi,” Lind said. It was a very hard order to follow when she could smell exactly how unrelaxed Lind was themselves. One of the Mandos addressed Lind.

“Your face is familiar, vod.” It was one of the many code phrases used to make sure it really was another covert member under the helmet.

“For it is yours as well.” He nodded, but neither lowered their blasters. Looked like code phrases wasn’t enough assurance these days. Tippi didn’t know either of them, but she was pretty sure she was smelling a lot of fear. She hoped they didn’t get trigger happy when they were nervous. She wasn’t ready to replace her other arm yet. Or her head.

“You’re not due back for another standard month. What are they doing here?” 

“We’re here for a meeting with my grandmother.”

“No one mentioned a meeting.”

“This is an urgent matter. It couldn’t wait.”

“Your… uh… friends will have to wait here.”

“This concerns them. They’re coming in with me.”

“Lind,” the Mando dropped the formality. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. Even if it’s…” he waved his blaster at Boba. “ _ Him _ . But we can’t let them in. The alor will-”

“I’ll deal with my grandmother. They’re coming in.” The Mando sighed.

“Never thought I’d say this but… you’re sort of starting to sound like the alor. C’mon.” Lind twitched, their system flooding with a pungent mix of terror and rage. When it came to Lind’s grandmother, the fear was expected, but the anger was new. Tippi breathed a sigh of relief as the blasters lowered, but this new development with Lind’s feelings made Tippi nervous in a whole new way. 

One of the guards led them into the shallow cave. He released the locking mechanism of a hatch in the ground that had been disguised as a boulder.

The guard closed the trap door over their heads as they descended. From the look of it, this was a tunnel system dug decades ago by smugglers or pirates to hide their loot and possibly themselves if the authorities got too close. The further they went, the less polished it became. Seemed like the covert had extended the system to accommodate their numbers. Tippi wondered if the original owners had abandoned it or experienced a conquering Mandlaorian horde straight out of a history drama holo.

“If that old bag says one nasty thing I reserve the right to deck her,” Boba said under his breath. 

“Boba, are you saying you would punch an old woman?” Tippi tried to sound properly aghast but if she was being honest, the old woman deserved a good fist to the jaw.

“I am not prejudiced against the elderly.”

“Egalitarian elder abuse. What virtue. You really have no common decency, do you?”

“Used to. That old vibro axe beat the common decency right out of me last time we met.”

The tunnel opened up into a wider cavern stacked with shipping crates.

“Wait here,” Lind said. “I’ll go get Sasch.” 

“Nice place you got here,” Tippi said nervously. “Real coz-what was that??” Tippi whirled around. Her sharp ears had picked up a noise too big to come from vermin. Unless this planet had pests nearly as big as Tippi herself...

A small head peeked out from behind one of the crates. 

“Well,” Lind said. “When did you all get so shy?” More faces appeared. They were surrounded by children. 

They ranged from just out of toddling stage to prepubescent. The older ones were wearing miniature versions of Lind’s helmet. They hung back, glancing from Lind to Tippi to Boba and back, trying to gauge if this was a safe situation or not.

“Oh!” Tippi’s ears swiveled forward and she gave up all pretense of dignity. “Look at those tiny helmets! Oh, they’re so sweet,” she cooed. “Lind, did you ever look like that?”

“Yeah. Do you see the tall one in the corner with the ball? That’s Epo. He’s wearing my old helmet. He’ll be too big for it soon,” Lind said a little wistfully.

“Is that Boba Fett?” Epo asked Lind. He was trying his best to sound brave, but the uncertain tremor in his voice gave up his terror more effectively than his scent.

“Yes, it is. Why don’t you remember your manners and say hello. He’s an ally.”

“Are you?” one of the smallest helmeted children asked Boba. She was a wisp of a thing, maybe seven years old, but Tippi couldn’t smell a trace of fear on her.

“You calling Lind a liar, kid?” Boba said.

“I’d never call my ommer a liar!” she exclaimed, stamping her foot in indignation before running to hug Lind’s leg. She turned her helmet to look up at Boba. “You can’t tell but I’m sticking my tongue out at you.” Cheeky thing. She reminded Tippi of Lind if Lind had been twice as intrepid.

“You two related?” Boba joked.

“My niece, Alis.”

“Oh,” Boba’s surprise was evident. 

“I’ve told you about her, Boba.”

“Right.” Apparently, he’d filed Alis’ existence along with the rest of the covert as something to bury deep and forget. Tippi couldn’t really blame him. She’d been resentful over Lind’s attachment to their niece for years. 

Alis released Lind’s leg and approached Tippi.

“I’ve never met an aruetii before,” she said, awed. “Can I touch your ears?”

“Oh, uh… yeah? Sure?” Tippi was flustered but tilted her head so Alis could easily touch the tip of her long, pointed ear. 

“Wow!” She was very gentle, and Tippi found all that long harbored resentment melting away.

Alis’ fearlessness emboldened the other children who began to approach. They crowded around Tippi or Lind. They weren’t subtle about their avoidance of Boba. He didn’t seem to mind much. He’d confessed that he hadn’t really spent a lot of time with children even when he was one. He wasn’t sure how to handle them and that made him as uncomfortable as Lind with a beautiful woman.

“Ok, I need all of you to stay out of trouble. Alis, do me a favor would you?” Lind pointed at Boba. “Keep an eye on him. He’s hopeless.” 

Alis threw a tiny salute and Lind disappeared down a side corridor.

“Are we sure it’s really ok he’s here?” Epo asked Alis.

“If ommer says it’s ok, then it’s ok!” Alis reprimanded the older boy. She’d inherited her mother’s bossy streak. She turned to Boba and said, “Do you know how to play hide and seek?

“Kid,” Boba said, “I do that for a living.” Alice squealed and immediately proclaimed him seeker before all the children scattered. Alis glanced back before she made her dive behind a rations crate and realized he hadn’t covered his visor with his hands.

“I thought you knew how to play?” she demanded.

“My eyes are closed,” he said.

“You have to cover them or we won’t know!”

“Yeah, Boba!” Tippi swatted him. “They won’t know if you don’t cover your eyes!” Out of the corner of her mouth she whispered, “You didn’t close them, did you? You’ve never played this at all, have you?”

“I  _ did. _ ” he whispered back. “With my dad. For training. We had different rules. I had to escape him before I hid. If he caught me it was an immediate loss.”

“Your old man must have been a real bucket of laughs. This isn’t training. Just let the damn kids win.”

By the time Lind returned, Boba had ‘found’ three of the younger kids. They hadn’t been too upset. Sitting still was boring.

Alis read Boba’s discomfort as uncertainty and took pity on him. She turned on her playmates to help spare him further embarrassment.

“You don’t know how to play right. Let me help you.”

She’d looped her fingers through his belt and tried to lead him to where Epo was hidden. Tippi kept up a loud commentary from her perch on one of the crates.

“Wow, these little Mandos must be real well trained if Boba Fett, greatest bounty hunter of all time, can’t find them!”

Boba clearly wasn’t sure if he should be pretending not to hear all the giggling. Tippi could smell his relief when Sasch interrupted them. 

“Alis!” Sasch was as authoritative and strict as she ever was, even when speaking to her own child. “You are disobeying a direct order. You know you are meant to maintain your distance from the dar’manda. You have not displayed the necessary qualities of leadership here today. Do you no longer wish to become the alor, like your grandmother before you?

Alis’ confident posture slumped, though Tippi couldn’t hear any sign of her crying as she silently accepted her mother’s criticism. This was clearly a familiar routine. Tippi must have read very different parenting guides, because that didn’t seem right to do to a little kid. Bottling all that hurt and shame couldn’t be healthy. Tippi wondered if Sasch had once been like Alis before her grandmother beat all the laughter out of her. If this kept up, what would Alis become in a few years? 

“Sasch, it’s not her fault,” Lind said, coming up behind Alis and placing a protective hand on her little shoulder. “I asked Alis to keep guard over him. If anyone proved a failure at leadership it was me.” 

“I see. Perhaps I was too harsh,” Sasch relented. Tippi resisted the urge to let out a derisive snort. Too harsh was the best way to describe Sasch’s entire personality. Sasch turned to Boba and Tippi. “Follow me. Grandmother is waiting.”

***

Boba was viscerally reminded of the last time he’d met Alor Balazs. As before, she sat in her simple chair as if it were the throne in the Sundari royal palace on Mandalore. 

The last time she’d only been flanked by a small handful of her followers. This time, the chamber they stood in was crowded with about thirty Mandalorians. Boba thought this must be the entire adult population of the covert.

Boba would have preferred to be trapped on the Falcon with Solo, Calrissian, and that gold protocol droid as his only company. He had no idea what Lind had brought him here for but he had a sinking feeling. 

“Lind,” Alor Balazs intoned. “Tell the dar’manda scum to remove that sacred symbol from his filthy head in my presence.” Lind made an exaggerated show of surveying everyone standing in the chamber.

“Forgive me, Grandmother. I see no dar’manda scum here.”

“So it is true then,” Alor Balazs said. “You keep unfit company. He is worse than the little vermin,” she waved dismissively at Tippi. 

“If she keeps this up, _ I’m _ gonna be the one that punches her,” Tippi muttered under her breath to Boba. He grinned under his helmet. That was two votes for just decking the old bag and making a run for it.

“I had thought Sasch’s reports seemed less than thorough lately,” Alor Balazs said. Sasch’s helmet bowed in shame. “I see why now.”

“My apologies, Grandmother. I did not wish to upset you unnecessarily.”

“I am not upset. Merely… disappointed. I cannot say this is a surprise. Tell me, Lind,” she said. “Have you brought your  _ pet _ before me so that he may beg to take up the creed he has so long disrespected? Does he wish to atone for his buir’s shame?”

“I’m no akk dog,” Boba said. “I don’t beg.” 

That was summarily untrue. He had begged Lind for a lot of things over the last couple years. He wondered how mad they would be if he brought  _ that  _ up in front of the entire covert…

“I’m here to speak for both him and Tippi,” Lind pressed.

“Has she decided to take up the creed as well? A little short for a Mandalorian, is she not?” Alor Balazs’ laughter was cold. Tippi hissed at her.

“Grandmother, you  _ will _ speak to my family with respect.” There was a murmur of disbelief through the crowd, and Alor Balazs sat up straighter.

“You call  _ these _ family?” she waved her hand at Boba and Tippi. Lind matched their grandmother’s ramrod straight posture. 

“I do. I am here to discuss their new positions as members of my own personal clan and to renegotiate the terms of my service to the covert.”

“How dare you treat this like one of your little bounty hunter jobs?” Sasch bellowed. “ _ We  _ are your clan! Your family! How dare you?” Lind ignored her.

“I will remain with Tippi onboard the Revenant as a runner as long and as often as I see fit. Once I have taken up Grandmother’s position as head recordkeeper, my students will accompany me during my time offworld or have their lessons remotely.”

“This is unacceptable!” Alor Balazs slammed her fist against the arm of her chair. “You swore yourself to the creed. Would you betray everything for this short-lived aruetii and the very embodiment of our people’s greatest shame? I will not stand such insolence! You are no longer a child, Lind. Any punishment you incur for your foolhardy actions will be unyielding.”

“What are you going to do, Grandmother? Really? Don’t try to use the creed against me. I know every law and unspoken rule as well as you do. We both know this has nothing to do with the way of the Mandalore. There is nothing barring Boba and Tippi from me but you. You don’t have to like it. Or understand it. You don’t even have to agree with it. You just have to accept that Tippi and Boba are my family. It may not be your way, but they are my way.”

Alor Balazs pointed a long finger at Lind. It trembled with the withering strength of her age, but it was no less commanding for it.

“Yours will be a great loss but we have endured far greater. Do this and you will no longer be my grandchild. I will cut you from me as with a knife. You will be exiled. I will name you dar’manda myself.” 

Sasch gasped and fell back a step as if she’d been physically struck. She was as speechless as everyone else. 

Boba looked to Lind. He’d been half expecting them to collapse in on themselves, like he had done when his own family had been lost to him. Instead, they stood as tall and straight as he had ever seen them. No telltale trembling pauldrons. It was like they were solid beskar all the way through.

“If that is the will of my people, then I will accept your punishment,” they said with awful finality. 

Boba realized then that this was why Lind had asked the two of them to come as backup. They had anticipated exactly how this would end. They’d already grappled with and accepted a fate worse than death just so they could remain with him…. and Tippi. 

This was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? For Lind to choose him above everyone else? He should be ecstatic. He should be pumping his fist in the air like an excited ten year old. Lind was  _ HIS _ ! And Tippi’s.

But… Lind’s blood family had just abandoned them. They’d been cut off from the culture and community they valued so highly and been set adrift at the mercy of a cruel and unrelenting galaxy. There was no safe place left for them to go.

“So be it.” Alor Balazs sounded like she was pronouncing a death sentence. She might as well have been. “Surrender your helmet and your armor. You no longer have a place here or in the manda.” She held her hands out before her. 

He had wanted to see their face but not like this. Alor Balazs expected Lind, her own grandchild, to physically strip themselves bare of everything that mattered to them before the eyes of everyone they had ever known or cared for. This wasn’t mere humiliation. Lind’s grandmother intended to force Lind to publicly violate themselves. 

“I refuse.” Lind sounded every bit as commanding as their Grandmother. “Some di’kut once told me that my armor is a part of me. You can take away my place here, but you can’t take away who I am.”

“A thief as well, then. May you find neither rest nor peace in this life or any other. You are a stranger to me.  _ Dar’manda. _ ” She hissed the last word like it was the most virulent curse imaginable.

Boba had heard the phrase ‘deafening silence’ but he’d never really understood it until now. The moment felt suspended in time, like everyone's breath had stopped and the planet had halted its rotation. And then, as she did with all things, Tir opened her big, stupid mouth.

“Lind will never be dar’manda,” she declared. She took up position at Lind’s left shoulder. That seemed significant, but Boba was unsure why. He should have listened to Lind’s rambling more closely. “Lind has protected us. Provided for us. There are dozens of other coverts that would gladly welcome them as one of their own. You taught us all, ever since we were old enough to understand, that one can only be dar’manda if they are truly alone, when they’ve lost their way and the Mandalorian people aren’t standing at their side. Lind’s way is clear and they are not alone. If you send them away, I will follow after them.” Tir pressed her fist to her chest diamond to convey her deep sincerity and dedication. 

Alor Balazs reared forward like a striking serpent. Her words were just as venomous.

“Any who would follow after Lind would be as they are! A traitor! An exile! Dead even as they yet live!”

Sasch recovered from whatever shocked stupor she had been trapped in.

“Grandmother, Tir is not the only one who would follow Lind. I do not believe there would be a single person left in these tunnels. Only _ you _ .” 

She left her grandmother’s side and took up a place beside Tir. One by one, then by groups, the rest of the crowd followed until it was only Alor Balazs staring down thirty-odd accusing visors. And Tippi. 

This was the first time in Boba's life that he felt comforted by a platoon of armed strangers standing at his back. It was a heady feeling. Boba found he couldn’t resist temptation, and he tilted his helmet in mock solidarity with the old hag.

“Welcome to the club, dar’manda scum,” he gloated. 

“Boba!” Lind snapped.

“Way to ruin the moment, Fett,” Tippi said, swatting him on the thigh.

Boba shrugged. 

“At least I didn’t punch her out.”

All the helmets swiveled to look at him now. He stared back and lifted his chin in a clear display of defiance. He wasn’t going to apologize for something he didn’t regret saying. 

Sasch turned to Lind.

“Really?” she sighed. “ _ Him _ ?

“Yes,” Lind said fondly. “Very much him.”

They left Alor Balazs, still spluttering in impotent rage, with only her nursedroid for company. She was still technically the alor, but she’d been stripped of any real authority. It was possible to fight her and win and after all.

Boba was an honored member of Lind’s  _ personal clan _ . That didn't seem to matter to anyone but Boba, because the other Mandalorians were still giving him a wide berth. That was fine by him. There was only one Mando here whose acceptance he cared about.

He stood with Tippi at Lind’s side as every kriffing person in the covert approached to congratulate them on their victory. Apparently, Grandmother hadn’t been very popular. What a shock. They gripped Lind’s shoulder or bashed their foreheads together. Lind must be getting dizzy taking all those Keldabe Kisses. Maybe they’d like to lay that aching head on his shoulder later.

Tippi was starting to fidget. Boba thought they should just grab Lind and make a run for it back to the Revenant. Enough with the boisterous acts of camaraderie. He just wanted to sit huddled together in the cockpit watching the stars. Just how he and Jango used to, back when he’d last been part of a family. He certainly wouldn’t mind sitting on Lind’s lap instead this time around.

Unfortunately, Lind still had a couple more farewells to make. Boba would have liked to skip these even more than the rest.

They could hear Sasch weeping openly inside her sealed helmet. She was probably a snotty, crimson-faced mess under there. It made Boba smile. He wasn’t ready to forgive her yet. He doubted he ever would be.

“Oh Lind, I am so sorry! I never thought she would actually try to do that to you. I have not protected you as an elder sibling should.  _ Boba Fett _ of all people better performed my duties as your vod,” she blubbered as Lind gently patted her arm. Boba was pretty sure he should be offended.

“It’s alright, Sasch,” Lind said.

“It  _ isn’t _ !!” Sasch sobbed. 

“Hey, is my hearing going or did she just use a  _ contraction _ ?” Tippi asked Boba. 

“When have your ears ever been wrong?” This was probably the best day of his life.

“She must be genuinely torn up over this.”

“Sorta gives you the warm fuzzies, don’t it?” He didn’t even try to hide how happy he was.

“It’s creepy when you’re in a good mood,” Tippi said. “Stop it.”

“Are you certain you cannot stay a while longer?” Sasch sniffled.

“I have responsibilities. You know, the ones you assigned. That shipment of rations? Remember that?”

“Do we really need another shipment of rations so soon? Can you not call your little smuggler friend and delay it a few days?”

“No can do.”

Tir’s goodbye was shockingly short and sweet. She gently caressed the cheekplate of Lind’s helmet and begged them to return soon with more pirjanad sauce. They were running low again.

On their way out, they passed back through the cavern where the children were playing. They all dropped what they were doing to demand the result of the meeting. What had the alor said about the aruetii?

“There’s no aruetii here,” Lind said with great pride. “You’re looking at the two members of my personal clan.” 

There was a lot of excited chattering and questions of whether Boba and Tippi would come back for Lind’s next check in. There was one curious little voice that was noticeably absent from the chorus.

“Ommer,” Alis said tremulously. “You’re not part of  _ my _ clan anymore?” She hiccupped as she failed to suppress her tears.

Boba realized how bad Lind’s announcement must have sounded to Alis who had only ever known the traditional Mandalorian clan model. Lind knelt down to Alis’ eyelevel and grasped her little shoulders in a clear sign of solidarity.

“It doesn’t mean that at all. I’ll always be your clan.” 

“I… uh…” Boba cleared his throat. “I don’t mind sharing if you don’t, kid.” It turned out there were two Mandos here whose acceptance he cared about.

Alis looked up and regarded Boba with a calculating, Sasch-like intensity. Boba shifted his weight. A charged blaster pointed at his face wasn’t enough to unnerve Boba Fett, but a seven year old child was.

“Are you my ommer now too, Boba Fett?” 

Boba had no idea what the appropriate response to this situation was.

“Uh… ask your mother…?”

“No.” Alis said firmly. “I am going to be alor someday. I need to make my own decisions.” She really did sound like Sasch in miniature. She then did something very un-Sasch-like. She hugged him around the waist and said, “If you’re Ommer’s clan then you’re mine too. I’ve decided.”  _ Uh oh. _ Sasch wasn’t going to be happy about that. He patted her helmet uncertainly, looking to Lind for help. They offered him none.

The children were much quicker to say their goodbyes. They wanted to return to whatever games they’d been playing. Boba decided he preferred the younger set to their seniors. Easier to deal with by far.

“Alis is a darling! How did someone like Sash produce her? I want one!” Tippi exclaimed before the stark reality of that request seemed to hit her like an overloaded freighter. She turned to Lind with an edge of panic in her tone. “I didn’t mean that. Please don’t make one. I don’t know if you two can, but please don’t.”

Now that they all had a future together as a clan, new possibilities had suddenly presented themselves. Frightening possibilities.

“We could always adopt a foundling,” Lind teased, but Tippi didn’t seem to hear them and her ears flattened backwards in alarm. She was wholly unprepared to reckon with the hypothetical addition of a fourth member to the team.

“What if it crawled into the vents?” Tippi was aghast. “Think of all my booby traps!”

“Why couldn’t you just… take the booby traps out?” Lind asked. 

“They’re part of the ship, Lind! We might as well disassemble the entire thing!” Tippi was beginning to sound a little hysterical. 

“I can’t believe Dad let me wander around the Slave I as a kid…” Boba was having his own horrifying revelation. The Slave I had a mind bending layout. That central shaft was alarmingly easy to fall down when the ship was in its upright flight position. “I never thought I would actually have any kids, but now…” Tippi stared at him in alarm. “Lind, you like kids, don’t you? Kriff, I’m not even sure I could keep one of those really tiny ones alive...”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘babies’.” Lind snapped. “To sum up, we’ve finally established something the Great Boba Fett is afraid of, and we’re all agreed no one is acquiring any children.” Lind brushed their hands together like they were knocking dust from their gloves. “All settled. Let’s move along.” Lind muttered under their breath, “Already taking care of two children as it is. Di’kute. The both of you”

Boba thought of Tula, and all the children out there like her. Like Boba had once been himself. Somehow he felt this wouldn’t be the end of this particular discussion.

Tippi insisted she didn’t need any help piloting the Revenant. Why don't the two of them relax a little? Get Boba up to speed on being a semi-proper Mandalorian. She’d call him when they were ready to dock with the Slave I. 

Boba knew what had transpired in that cavern was as significant for her as for him, and he appreciated being given the first turn to celebrate privately with his new clanmate. 

Boba set his helmet down on the waiting bench and Lind set theirs beside it. 

_Maybe_ _Lind has a point about my artistic skill_ , he thought as he compared their helmets sitting side by side... and then his brain finally registered what his eyes were seeing. If Lind’s helmet was there on the bench, then that must mean...

“Boba? Please look at me.”

And he did. He never wanted to stop looking at them. He stared until Lind couldn’t meet his gaze anymore. They looked down at his feet.

“Not what you were hoping for?” they asked.

“No.” He took in the sheer novelty of seeing Lind’s expression fall. He wanted to see how every emotion would play out on that face. He reached out and caught them under the chin. He tilted their face so they were making eye contact again. “You’re better.” Lind beamed. “We’re kind of an ugly pair, aren’t we?” he said. His face hurt. He didn’t think he’d ever smiled so hard. 

“Yeah. Good thing we wear those helmets all the time.” 

At that moment, Tippi walked by the open door and happened to glance over to check on whatever nonsense her Mandos were getting up to now. She froze in her tracks. The datapad in her hand clattered to the floor. 

“ _ Lind? _ ” She stared in dumb shock for a moment before blinking her large eyes rapidly and shaking her entire body. “Put it back. It’s freaking me out.” Lind laughed.

Boba shut the door in Tippi’s face. 

“Let’s see the rest of you now.” He reached for the closures on their flak vest.

“Fett, that’s two beautiful moments you’ve ruined today. Going for a record?” He shrugged.

“The night is young. Why don’t you and me make some more beautiful moments and we’ll see how I do?” Lind snorted.

“I love you, di’kut.”

“You sure took your sweet time saying it.”

“And there’s three.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Soundtrack  
> Find Your Way Back by Jefferson Starship  
> Who Is In Your Heart Now by The Studio Killers  
> The Warrior by Scandal ft. Patty Smyth  
> You Can Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac  
> Take It Off by KISS 
> 
> Stay tuned! Next week we're doing an epilogue!


	14. Epilogue: Three Straw Blue Milkshake

Boba turned down two lucrative jobs to accompany Lind and Tippi on a retrieval mission. Lind pointed out that he didn’t have to worry about optimizing limited time anymore, but he insisted. He was still in the mood to celebrate their new freedom. 

One of Kalypso’s suppliers had started giving her a hard time. It wouldn’t have been such an issue if his new price quotes weren’t so exorbitant, especially considering pirjanad sauce was no longer a restricted commodity under the New Republic’s latest trade legislation. The supplier quickly came around to Kalypso’s way of thinking with Boba Fett and Lind flanking her. In fact, he even gave them a discount.

After loading the Revenant’s hold with twice the amount of pirjanad than had been ordered, they ended up at Auni’s diner. Lind said they had a craving for a blue milkshake. Kalypso had turned down Tippi’s invitation to join them. She cited her reason as having already been forced to endure an entire hyperspace jump watching Lind time Boba as he disassembled and reassembled what must have been every blaster on board. 

Kalypso was the first to admit she had a filthy mind. She had trouble believing Lind’s easily misconstrued exclamations of admiration and techno babble could _ all  _ be innocent, but knowing Lind, it was a real possibility. Boba, ever the egomaniac, had been preening like a puffed up little Mandalorian shriek hawk with all that positive reinforcement. Kalypso finally snapped. 

“Would you two just shut yourselves in Lind’s quarters and get it on already??” 

“Get what on?” Lind had asked, the very picture of guilelessness. “We’re already wearing all our armor.” Boba smirked at Klaypso from behind Lind’s back. Oh, these insufferable Mando BASTARDS.

She needed a stronger kind of beverage than Auni could provide.

***

Toro Calican had often been accused of lacking ambition, but that was a gross misjudgement of his character. He did have ambition, just not for the respectable things his parents had expected and hoped for their only son. 

He would never be satisfied to spend his life welding parts for starships like his father and grandfather before him had done. Sure, it was steady work. People would always need starships, but Toro saw no glory in it. Let someone else work the assembly line. There was a big galaxy out there and he was ready to grab it with both hands.

His ultimate goal was bounty hunting. Being his own boss appealed to Toro, as did the prestige and respect hunters like Bossk or Embo enjoyed. He was getting better with his blaster and he had high hopes for his budding reputation. Soon they’d all be whispering his name at the cantina.

Technically they already were. He’d just won his first quickdraw shootout over there, though the barkeep hadn’t been happy about the mess and neither had the guy Toro had shot. He’d shouted some choice names as Toro beat it out the front door with a couple angry weequays on his heels. Toro’s aim needed a little more work before he was ready to strike out on his first hunt.

He’d ducked into a nearby diner, watching his pursuers run by the window in search of him. _ Too slow _ , Toro grinned to himself. So maybe things hadn’t played out exactly how he’d envisioned them, but it was a good first step. He was on his way to earning his spot with the Bounty Hunters’ Guild. Eventually, he’d leave them in his space dust, too. He heard the cream of the crop could afford to take exclusively private commissions.

Toro figured he might as well put his feet up while he waited for the situation to cool down outside. He proceeded further into the diner, dodging a cleaning droid that was mopping the floor. There was a dainty little pantoran seated in a booth near the back who looked like she’d be an excellent target for him to practice the art of the chase. Maybe she’d like to treat him to some dessert to celebrate his recent victory.

He slid in beside her, casually laying his arm across the back of her seat. If he played his cards right, it would wind up around her bare blue shoulders soon enough. She shifted away from him.  _ Little tease _ . He had her backed against the wall. There was no escape.

“Mm, that looks real nice,” he nodded at her half finished ronto roast wrap, but stared directly into her wide golden eyes. “Mind if I have a taste?”

“Order your own, you mooch.” A plump little pink twi’lek in an apron had appeared to refill the pantoran’s drink, which looked like it had barely been sampled. The twi’lek was probably a fine cut of meat once, but she was well past her expiration date at this point.

“Yeah, sure, why not? Why don’t you go get that ready and I’ll pick it up in a bit?” he started to turn back to his prey but the twi’lek put a hand on his shoulder.

“This is your warning. That ronto wrap is the only thing you’re picking up in here today.” Who did this lady think she was?

“Why don’t you mind your own business, tailhead?” he snapped. She got right up in his face and held a finger in front of his nose. 

“That’s your first strike. Two more and you get a lifetime ban, son. This booth is taken. Move that butt to the counter.” She pointed to an empty stool. A chadra-fan already sitting there had turned to watch the drama unfold. She was snickering at him. Toro was about to tell the waitress and the chadra-fan exactly where they could stick that ronto wrap when one of the other patrons, who had been leaning over a menu on the counter, straightened up. Toro got a good look at the distinctive helmet as they turned to address the chadra-fan. 

That looked like a bona fide Mando. Toro had heard of the legendary warrior cult but had never thought he’d get to see one up close.

“Yeah, you know what? You’re right,” he told the twi’lek, who didn’t look convinced of his attitude adjustment. “It’s a little crowded over here”

If he’d learned anything listening to the pros swapping stories over a cold pint of Iridonian beer, it was to be adaptable. The twi’lek was an obstacle but beating a real Mando would probably earn him some major points both on the bounty hunting scene and with the cute pantoran. 

He casually sat at the counter a few spots down from the chadra-fan and grabbed a menu he had no intention of actually reading. He was waiting for his Moment. He was far enough away not to seem obvious, but he could still overhear the conversation.

“C’mon, split the hoppers with me. You can barely taste the bug past the batter!” The chadra-fan pleaded with a stocky man standing on the Mando’s other side. Apparently they were all together. 

“Don’t care, Tip,” the man said. “I’m not picking bits of exoskeleton out of my teeth.”

It threw Toro off seeing a nearly mythical being like a Mando sandwiched between two totally ordinary people arguing over an appetizer.

“Lind, here’s your usual.” The twi’lek was back, offering the Mando a tall glass of thickly whipped blue milk with a bouquet of three red striped straws. They weren’t all going to share that were they? Watching that would be more mind bending than any Spice trip he’d experienced.

“Thank you, Auni,” the Mando said before they turned to the chadra-fan again. “Why don’t we go have a seat? I want to be comfortable if I have to listen to you and Boba argue about food.”

_ Boba. _ It couldn’t be...

It wasn’t a common name. Toro took another look at the man. He certainly had the scars to be an established hunter like Boba Fett. Little on the short side, considering all the tall tales he’d heard about the legendary hunter. If a tough bastard like that was going to hang out with anyone, Toro supposed it would make sense he’d pick someone hard enough to live the life of a Mando. He’d heard brutal things, though those stories were at odds with that frothy blue milkshake in their hand.

While Toro agonized over his next move, the group left the counter and headed to the very back of the diner. As the man who-might-be-Boba-Fett stood and debated which of his companions to sit beside, Toro made up his own mind. Beating a Mando was good. Beating Boba Fett was better.

He pushed himself away from the counter, making sure the pantoran was watching as he swaggered over to the trio. He tapped the much shorter man on the shoulder. He adopted the most devil-may-care attitude he could as the man turned to face him.

“So,” Toro said, making sure his head was tilted up to emphasize that he was looking down his nose at the man both physically and proverbially. “ _You’re_ Boba Fett?” 

“Yep,” was all he said, seemingly unfazed by Toro’s posturing.

“You’re shorter than I thought you’d be,” Toro needled.

“Yep.” He’d heard Fett wasn’t much for words, but Toro had expected what words he did use to be… well,  _ cooler _ .

“What is this, your babysitter?” He gestured at the seated Mando. “Bet you’re not so tough without your toys.” He shoved Boba’s shoulder in lieu of a formal challenge. “Wanna take this outside?” Fett stared unblinkingly into his face.

“Nah.” 

“What did you just say to me?”

“Sounded like ‘nah’,” the chadra-fan chimed in. “It’s a common form of rejection. You should be used to that by now.” _ Smart mouthed little- _

Fett began to turn away like this was over. Well, it wasn’t! Toro reached out to grab Fett’s shoulder. 

“Shouldn’t you know better than to turn your back on an ene-” All he saw was a sudden blue blur as the Mando pivoted in their seat, not even bothering to stand up, and shoved him. Toro stumbled back a few steps. 

“That only applies to a real threat,” the chadra-fan sneered at him. “I’m sure he’d love to get into whatever this is. Really. But it’s his day off.”

“Butt out, anklebiter! You scared to fight me, Fett? Hiding behind your little friends?”

“It’s not  _ my _ reputation they’re protecting. Walk away.”

“I never back down! I’m the best and everyone in this diner is gonna know it!” Fett turned to fully face Toro.

“That’s my line, kid.”

“For the love of-” The waitress exclaimed. He wasn’t expecting her to snatch the mop out of the cleaning droid’s pincers and swing it at his head with as much strength as she was capable. Granted it wasn’t all that hard, but it connected with a humiliating, wet smack. “Don’t you dare try to start a fight in MY diner! The only reputation that matters in here is MINE.”

Toro hadn’t bothered to take the waitress seriously when she’d scolded him earlier. That fat little tailhead wasn’t his mother! Besides, he didn’t listen to his mother either. But now, with a Mandalorian at one shoulder and a legend at the other, he was starting to reconsider that stance.

Had the Mando always been that tall? As it turned out, it wasn’t height or a helmet that made someone intimidating. Boba Fett may have been short but that scowl seemed to add at least five inches. 

“That’s strike two,” the waitress said. “Your order will be ready in fifteen standard minutes. Wait outside.”

***

“Do you want rendezvous coordinates for later?” Lind asked. Boba’s scoff came out as static over the comm.

“Don’t insult me. I’m the number one bounty hunter in the galaxy. There’s nowhere you can run where I can’t find you.”

The Slave I made its hyperspace jump to a duet of exasperated groans. 

“Does he have to say that every kriffing time?” Tippi complained.

“He’s like those commercials on the holonet for that brand of canned protein rations that have their slogan big as life on the label.” Lind replied.

“Maybe we should make him his own label. Wrap it around his helmet. Save him some hot air.” Lind snorted.

“C’mon, Tippi. We’re gonna be the ones who need an ad campaign if we sit here much longer. Take us out. We’ve got a job to do.”

The stars smeared across the cockpit canopy. The Revenant carried them faster than light in the opposite direction from the course the Slave I had set. Lind felt a familiar twinge beneath their chest diamond that seemed to be happening sooner and sooner each time they parted ways with the other ship. 

They didn’t even really mind him repeating his stupid catchphrase ad nauseum. It was a comfort to be reminded that it didn’t matter how far afield they wandered. Like he would never stop bragging, Boba Fett always got his man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Sountrack:  
> The Goonies ‘R’ Good Enough by Cyndi Lauper  
> (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction by The Rolling Stones  
> It’s My Life by Bon Jovi  
> Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper


End file.
